
Class _B4i5ia 
Book .H? >y3 - 






THE 
HISTORY AND PLEASANT CHRONICLE 

OF 

I LITTLE JEHAN DE SAINTRE 



^ 



THE 
HISTORY AND PLEASANT CHRONICLE 

OF 

LITTLE JEHAN DE SAINTRE 

AND OF THE LADY OF THE FAIR COUSINS 

Without being any otherwise named 

NOW FIRST DONE INTO ENGLISH 



BY 

ALEXANDER VANCE 



DUBLIN 
MOFFAT AND CO., 6 D'OLIER STREET 

LONDON : HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO. 



MDCCCLXVIII 




INTRODUCTION. 



AS few things would appear to me to be more discredit- 
able ; or, in the long run, more shortsighted, than 
for any man who has earned to himself some little reputa- 
tion for taste and judgment, simply to attain some tem- 
porary end, deliberately to prostitute, or trifle with the 
same, I shall very candidly avow to the reader, had the 
translation of Saintre to be entered on afresh, it is not 
by any means a thing certain that I had been the effecter 
of the same. However if, when undertaken, surprised out 
of a more wonted wariness by the unexpected richness 
of a part, I may have been prevailed upon to look some- 
what too good-naturedly on the work as a whole, it is still 
possible, envisaging it under all the apathy and reaction 
inevitable to the subsidence of a somewhat heightened 
enthusiasm, that I may now be allowing myself to think a 
little too hardly of it. It is, if not with the expectation, 
at least the hope, that the latter impression may prove 
to be the more grounded of the two, that it is now sub- 
mitted to the public. 

But few, it may be safely ventured to predict, wiU come 
to the last page of this romance with other feelings than 
those of regret and of surprise : regTet, that a man who 
had shown himself equal to the denouement, should have 

a 2 



iv Introduction. 



been at all the pains which he was to oblige us with the 
mystification of the same ; (though, how well much more 
was to have been made of his subject, I must confess, I am 
at a loss to conceive) : surprise, that such as it is, it should 
never till now have been rendered into the English tongue. 
In truth, it is a very remarkable work. In some 
respects it is one of the most original productions that I 
ever remember to have met with. But with very little 
exaggeration it may be said to be the Waverley^ and even 
more than the Waverley of a comparatively unlettered age. 
Or I am much deceived, let which will be the second^ with 
it must ever remain the honour of being accounted the 
first novel, in the conventional and modern acceptation of the 
term, of which there is any record, originating either in 
France or in England ; at any rate, the first, comic one. 
This, of course, I do not undertake to assert; I merely 
state as much to be my impression. A dozen like it might 
easily be eluding the research of so erratic and capri- 
cious a reader as myself. Here we have a man, at a time 
when every forest was the haunt of fays; when every 
dungeon had its dragon, den its giant, court its dwarf; 
when hermits, palmers wept, recluses prayed ; when every 
lady had her milk-white palfrey ; unprotected female her 
champion ; damsel her lover ; virgin her ravisher or her 
deliverer ; when every castle was enchanted, the very 
stones were bewitched : — in a word, when all kindred and 
contemporary literature was no better, or other, than one 
interminable and unintelligible rigmarole of, however pic- 
turesque, solemn, clumsy and unmanageable adventure, 
boldly discarding, at a swoop, all such auxiliaries ; fearlessly 
retreating upon nature, pure, simple, unadulterate. Nor 
can the eifect have been other than answerable to the 



Introduction, 



design. I question if even Don Quixote^ with all its 
strained, common-place, far-fetched hyperbole, extrava- 
gance, can have ever done so much with the ordinary sort, 
to open the eyes of the world to the weaker side of chi- 
valry, as must the keen, fine irony, raillery of Saintre^ 
among the more accomplished classes. Anything more 
creditable than the plot, all things considered ; or charac- 
ters more admirably sustained than those of the hero and 
the heroine, it would be difficult to find, and unreasonable 
to look for, at any such early day. 

If I spoke, a moment ago, of Saintre being ''the Waver- 
ley^ and even more than the Waverley of a comparatively 
unlettered age," I must be understood to have been insti- 
tuting a comparison simply between the originality, not 
the literary pretensions of the two works. That Scott was 
greatly struck with Saintre ; more so, perhaps, than he was 
altogether aware of at the time, is evident. I think it 
will be very hard for any observant reader of our work, to 
resist the conclusion, that it was to it that he was indebted 
for the first hint of the general outline of the plan of the 
Waverley novel. 

The romance of Saintre is generally supposed, thougli, 
to my mind, upon entirely inadequate grounds, to be of a 
semi-historical character. The impression may probably 
be traced to the editor of the Paris edition of 1724 ; a man 
in no way competent to have taken any such charge in hand. 
He has evidently, as he himself allows, been at no end of 
trouble to identity the " Lady of the Fair Cousins'' with 
one or other of the nieces of the King; taking it for 
granted that she must have stood in such a relation to the 
crown. And this simply because the Queen calls her 
Fair Cousin; and that the Lady herself speaks of the 



vi Introduction . 



royal dukes, as Fair Uncles, But as to the Queen's calling 
her Fair Cousin, that amounts to exactly nothing ; as such 
condescension was then, in the interchange of familiarity 
and sprightliness, common enough. Besides, it would then 
be niece^ not cousin. Whilst, that she should allude to the 
dukes, as Fair Uncles, weighs equally little with me. She 
only once, I think, either addresses them, or refers to them, 
as being her personal relatives. And this allusion may 
be either an oversight, or a misprint, or an interpolation ; 
for anything more slovenly, disgraceful, barbarous, or, at 
times, unintelligible than the copy from which this trans- 
lation is made, it would be literally impossible to conceive. 
Fair Uncles, which is the honorary with which a King 
would address his uncles, or the junior branches of a royal 
blood approach theirs, might clearly also be the one by 
which those dignitaries would be spoken of uncere- 
moniously in a court, behind their backs. The lady can 
have been of no such rank, for abundant and very obvious 
reasons. To he come of the kindred of the Fair Cousins^ 
would appear to me only to mean, that she was a woman 
moving in such a sphere as entitled her to be the familiar 
of her sovereign and his court. To this day, the English 
peerage is cousin to the crown. She seems to have been a 
lady of the provinces, and was, apparently, an heiress in 
her own right. But as nothing to be depended on is, I 
imagine, know|^ of either Saintre or the lady, it is idle to 
be discussing how far the work may be founded upon fact ; 
or to what extent it is merely an eifort of the imagination. 
I repeat, my own impression is, that De la Salles was, as re- 
gards invention, originality, acquirement, very much such 
a person as Scott ; and that "Saintre,'' or 'Tis one-hundred- 
and-twenty years since, is no better than a hodge-podge ; as 



Introduction, vii 



is " Waverley, or 'Tis sixty years since," of literary, tra- 
ditional, and historical gleaning ; all worked up together by 
a man of a liigh and a fine fancy and observation. 

It is seldom that the moral of a work, or, at any rate, the 
individuality of its author, is not, at least to some degree, 
to be gathered from its pages. In the case before us, how- 
ever, it would be a pretty difficult task to do so. Scott, 
as may be seen in his ''Essay on Chivalry," appears to 
have attached a very much more serious importance to 
this gentleman's authority, purpose, than I have been able 
to bring myself to do. In fact, in my opinion, he was no 
better tlian a wag ; and a wag of the first water too : the 
Fielding, or the Hamilton of his day. So far as one can 
guess at him, like Hamilton, he must have been a fine, 
and even a very fine gentleman ; or, with Fielding, he 
probably could have been one when he had a mind : most 
certainly he knew what one was ; no man better. 

The first part of Saintre, looking at it as dispassionately 
as I am able, would hardly seem to me to be much inferior 
to the feebler portions of the Grrammont Memoirs ; and 
only to be at all so, because the subject would not permit, 
on the part of De la Salles, of a like display of his well-nigh 
unrivalled natural powers. In the general style of the 
two works, there is, at times, a certain resemblance : — the 
same strainings the same labour is observable in much of 
each. But however we may be divided ab^ut the open- 
ing, (for touching the middle^ which is written without 
any sort of pretension, and with a charming, almost an infan- 
tine simplicity and pathos, I do not suppose that there can 
be much dlflference of opinion), I think it would be no easy 
matter to point to ninety or an hundred consecutive pages 
in any romance, French or English, ancient or modern, of 



viii Introduction. 



a rarer, more animated, more varied or sustained excellency, 
than that which is evidenced of the concluding chapters of 
our author. The attention may not be harrowed, tortured, 
with all the sickening curiosity which rivets us to the 
pages of a Eichardson ; but, in return, we are quite as in- 
terested as it is either healthy, safe, or desirable to be. 
And where, in Eichardson, or where anywhere, save in 
Fielding, is to be found so much nervousness with so much 
airiness — so much ease with so much strength — so much 
dignity with so much irony — so much gravity with so 
much humour ? * 

Ere taking my leave of Saintre, I may be permitted to 
observe, that, possibly, it is to our author that the poet, 
Crabbe, was indebted for a hint when composing one of 
the most beautiful of all his tales, The Confidant. The 
parallel will at once occur to every reader, between the 
artifice of which Saintre availed himself to bring home 
to the lady all the sense of her unworthiness, and that 
with which tlie splendid fellow of a farmer confounds the 
'' traitor friend." 



Though this may not be exactly the place to launch out 
into any sort of digression, inquiry, touching the aspect of 
society in the middle ages, I may, I trust, in availing 
myself of the only one which is open to me, be permitted 
to state, that, in my opinion, there is very much misap- 
prehension pervading all popular and received appreciation 
of those times ; and this misconception I take to be chiefly 
based upon a mistaken estimate, as well of the character 
as the worth of politer mediaeval literature. I cannot 
attach anything like the same importance, as authority, to 



Introduction, ix 



old romance, that either did St. Pelaye or yet Sir Waher 
Scott. The latter resumes, in epitome, his conclusions 
thus: " We may here observe, once for all, that we have 
no hesitation in quoting the romances of Chivalry as 
good evidence of the laws and customs of Knighthood. 
The author, like the painter of the period, invented 
nothing, but, copying the manners of the age in which 
they lived, transferred them, without doubt or scruple, to 
the period and personages of whom they treated. But 
the romance of Jean de Saintre is still more authentic ^' 
evidence, as it is supposed to contain no small measure of 
fact, though disguised and distorted. Probably the "^ 
achievement of the Polish Knights may have been a real 
incident." Having thus delivered himself, he proceeds to 
lay before the reader, as deliberate statements, or rather, 
as authorities equivalent to such, passages from our author, 
which, to my poor way of thinking, to use a legal phrase, 
are not evidence. In fact, so far were the authors of that 
period from " inventing nothing," that it would be quite 
as near the mark to say, that they invented everything. 
For all that is out of nature — even unfaithful imitation of 
that nature, is pure invention, or the tantamount, practically, 
of such. And, I am sure, for any one to look for nature, 
(farther than occasional strokes and touches of the same), in 
any of the old romances previous to that of Saintre, would 
be to look for what is not to be met with. If they " in- 
vented nothing ;" then must the " Lafid of Fairy'' have 
been somewhere ; enchantment been something ; giants 
and hobgoblins somebodies. This, however, I waive as 
captious. But if they '^invented nothing," then must this 
idle young lady of the Fair Cousins have been acquainted 
with the Latin tongue — familiar with her Bible — well read 



Introduction. 



in the classics, fathers, canon law, bulls, and decretals. It 
may be replied, " But, possibly, all this was but the 
scrapings of some contemporary, and now long-lost manual !" 
This I deny not. But w^hy then should such a work have 
been interlarded, as this must have been, with Latin ! I 
may be in the wrong, but I think it would be very 
difficult for any man, well considering the roguery and 
wickedness with which these scraps are dovetailed together ; 
particularly if tolerably versant with contemporary lore 
and manners, to arrive at any other conclusion, than that 
the long-winded sermon of the lady of the Fair Cousins is 
one scarce interrupted burlesque, from beginning to end ; 
as, indeed, is a considerable proportion of the whole work. 
In fact, the middle part comprises all, which, to my mind, 
is written with any sort of conscience or sobriety. Some 
such education, doubtless, was bestowed upon the young 
gentlemen of the age; but it would require a vaster 
amount of credulity than, unhappily, has been apportioned 
out to me, to reconcile to my mind, that this was a literal 
or an identical course. 

At the risk of being thought a little prolix, I will yet 
farther try to make it clear, by a reference to Saintre^ 
how highly dangerous it is to accept of the old romances, 
and, above all, this of Saintre^ as affording an unequivocal 
picture of the manners of the times. The manners, 
unquestionably, are there ; but it will ever require a man 
of an unusual research ; of no common coolness, leisure, 
wariness, sagacity ; of a quick and trenchant knowledge 
of human nature, as well in all its known and possible 
combinations, as in its unknown and impossible ones, to 
draw the line, and say, where consistency, nature ends, and 
where extravagance, incongruity begins. 



Introduction. 



XI 



In the first place, our author tells us, that Saintre and 
Bouclquaut slept together in the chamber with the King ; 
adding, however, with his accustomed drollery, that they 
were, as a matter of course, turned out on certain state 
occasions. Yet, another time, we find several females 
sleeping in the room, when he expressly informs us that 
the King and Queen were in bed together. How is this 
to be reconciled ? Is it at all probable that he would have 
called in the women at a time when he had certainly 
turned out the men ? Or supposing, as it is almost certain, 
that women habitually slept in the Queen's apartment ; is 
it likely that he would have left them there when with 
her himself? I am sure I cannot tell. It is only one of 
a score of inconsistencies which might be pointed to in his 
book. My own notion, however, is, that women w^ould 
not be in the room ; and that he simply put them there 
for the fun of the tiling, and because they came in handy 
to his purpose. In fact, so thoroughly have a large pro- 
portion of us allowed ourselves to be carried away with 
the imagination, that it is only, or, at any rate, mainly, 
in the pages of old romance that we are to look for a 
reliable representation of the feudal world, that I hardly 
know to what to parallel the delusion, if not to the con- 
viction which prevailed, with reference to the Highland 
clans, in the days of the fourth George. Not only do 
they ofier but a very partial and inadequate view of the 
interior of society among the upper orders ; but they 
almost in toto ignore the very existence of that grave and 
learned middle-class body, the magistracy ; of all the wealthy 
burgher, manufacturing, and banking classes ; as, conse- 
quently, the relations in which these powerful communities 
must have stood toward the former, each other and the state. 



xii Introduction, 



"But/' says Lockhart^ "the most striking homage, (though 
apparently an unconscious one) that his (Scott's) genius re- 
ceived during this festive period, was, when his Majesty, 
after proposing the health of his hosts, the magistrates, and 
corporation of the northern capital, rose and said, there 
was one toast more, and but one, in which he must request 
the assembly to join him. ''I shall simply give you," 
said he, " Tlie chieftains and claris of Scotland; and 
prosperity/ to the land of cakes'' So completely had this 
hallucination taken possession, that nobody seems to have 
been startled, at the time, by language which thus dis- 
tinctly conveyed his Majesty's impression that the marking 
and crowning glory of Scotland consisted in the Highland 
clans and their chieftains." 

I repeat now, what I advanced in the introduction to 
Episodes, that it is a very grievous misapprehension to 
fancy that the middle ages, all through, were anything 
like so corrupt, demoralized, unpolished, unsafe, as they 
are generally enough supposed to have been. It will be 
rejoined, Eead the one you will, of the songs, the tales, of 
the troubadours ; are they not one tissue of coarseness, of 
obscenity ? are they not all rolling on intrigue, seduction, 
license ? To this I will simply reply, by requesting my 
interrogator to turn to chapter one hundred and twenty- 
seven of the Book of the Knight of the Tower ; and when 
he has read it, to inform me whether he thinks, had such 
been the case, the minstrels then had swarmed in the halls 
of La Galloniere^ as we have the word of the good 
Knight to the effect that they did ? I will farther reply 
by asking him, if he thinks it at all probable that such 
a man as Landry would ever have permitted any such pro- 
fanity to have been echoed, and been re-echoed within the 



Introduction. xiii 



bounds of his four walls? if lie thinks that the many 
" good ladies, as well in France as elsewhere, who would 
be too numerous to tell of," were likely, any more, to have 
countenanced the like indecency ? And even admitting 
that they did — as, to a considerable extent, I am prepared 
to concede to be the case — then must I be allowed to tell 
him, that such complaisance and such forbearance, on the 
part of these holy people, toward their comparatively low 
and vulgar-minded neighbours, would appear to me but 
as one evidence the more of all their broad and admirable 
charity : a charity which, this day, we are refusing to 
extend to them themselves. At the worst, and at the 
most, this literature can be only pointed to as an evidence 
of what people then were willing to listen to — what they 
found their entertainment in ; how they acted, was another 
matter. I am no antiquary, but I am satisfied that I am 
possessed of as fair an insight into the spirit, the genius, 
and the literature of the middle asfes as are most men not 
professedly such. And I deliberately say, that out of 
some hundreds of tales which have fallen under my notice, 
I can hardly recall a dozen that are not as unmistakeably 
works of imagination ; as certainly, I say not as much, out 
of this world, as are Crulliver's Travels, or the Arabian 
Nights' Entertainments. There is no necessary sympathy 
between impurity of writing, speaking; where only 
coarse, pleasant, not warm ; and impurity of morals or of 
manners. If anything, it is the other way. And it is a 
miserable thing for us to be allowing ourselves to draw 
our conclusions regarding the condition of society in the 
middle ages, from the extravagance of the romancers, or 
the licence of the troubadours. What the Knight of the 
Tower has recorded of his own times, the reader shall 



xiv Introduction. 



presently see for himself. What does Montaigne, if 
possible, even an higher authority than the Knight, tell 
us of the extraordinary, almost incredible virtue of the 
generation immediately preceding his own? the very 
time, too, when the lovely and accomplished Queen of 
Navarre was penning those ingenious tales, which, in the 
loftiness of our virtue, are now pointed to as an over- 
whelming evidence of the grossness and immorality of the 
sixteenth century ! To the charming sketch which he 
has left us of that "best of fathers," the following testi- 
mony is appended: — ''It is a wonder to thinke on the 
strange tales I have heard my father report of the chas- 
titie of his times. * * Hee was wont to say, that in a 
whole province there was scarse any woman of qualitie 
that had an ill name. Hee would often report strange 
familiarities, namely of his owne, with very honest women, 
without any suspicion at all. And protested very reli- 
giously, that when he was married, he was yet a pure 
Virgine ; yet had he long time followed the warres beyond 
the mountaines, and therein served long. * * And he 
was well strucken in yeares when he tooke a wife." We 
should have recollected that these ballads, these tales, were 
no other than what they professed to be ; ballads, tales ; 
not police reports, or yet the records of an Arches Court. 
With about as much justice might the Grammont Memoirs 
be appealed to, as conveying an adequate idea of the morals 
of the aristocracy in general in the reign of the second 
Charles. Yet, unconscionable a sinner as the fellow was, 
Hamilton has had the common honesty to admit, that it 
was little short of a miracle for any woman, in England, 
to part with her virtue before marriage. If it was a 
'^miracle" that it should be parted with before^ he must 



Introduction. xv 



allow me to hold myself excused, if I consider it to have 
been well nigh equally a miracle to have been dispensed 
with after. I will leave it to any fair man to say, in what 
light will posterity, applying the same rule and compass 
to Tom Jones that we now are doing to the pages of the 
troubadours, romancers, almost certainly regard the age 
which elicited that work ? I mean, what will be the 
impression left upon the minds of, I say not all men, 
but nine men out of ten ? Surely an unfavourable one. 
True, a more lovely, a more bewitching creature than 
Sophia Western scarce ever can have flitted 'cross painters' 
vision, or 'cross poets' brain. A worthier old body than 
Mrs. Nightingale can have but rarely lived. Yet still, 
I say, the whole cast of this, unquestionably the noblest 
novel in the English, or in any other language, savours, and 
will savour still more, with time, of gross licentiousness. 
Yet what has Fielding himself had the grace to admit of 
the ladies of his own age? "There is not, indeed," 
says he, " a greater error than that which uiiiversally 
prevails among the vulgar, who, borrowing their opinions 
from some ignorant satirists, have aflSxed the character of 
lewdness to these times ; on the contrary, I am convinced 
there never was less of love-intrigue carried on among 
persons of condition than now. * * . In my humble 
opinion, the true characteristic of the present beau monde 
is rather folly than vice, and the only epithet which it 
deserves, is that of frivolous." That Dr. Johnson enter- 
tained similarly exalted convictions as regarded the 
general respectability of the females of the upper classes 
in his own day, every reader of Boswell will recall. And 
this, too, be it remembered, at a moment when literature, 
if not as coarse, as naked, as that which we are consider- 



xvi Introduction, 



ing, ten times more disreputable, warm, seductive, 
dangerous, was to be found on every drawing-room table, 
and in every lady's closet ! And if, despite of all this 
evidence, it is still insisted on, that even to listen to, not 
to say relish, such a character of writing, is evidence in 
itself of an innately impure and indelicate turn of mind, 
then must Shakespeare, then must Milton, then must 
Johnson, then must Berkley, then must Scott, with 
thousands besides of the noblest and subliraest of God's 
created beings, have been men possessed of vitiated, per- 
verted minds, tastes, imaginations : an implication too 
monstrous to be entitled to one moment of serious refu- 
tation. 

I repeat, tliere is much exaggeration about the indelicacy 
of medieval literature. That a number of the songs, the 
tales of the troubadours, are coarse enough, to our ears, I 
will not attempt to palliate or deny ; but if so ; they are 
rather tinctured with the coarseness of a redeeming, an 
enviable, a charming, and a primitive simplicity, than with 
the objectionableness of a deliberate, a conscious, or even a 
possible offensiveness. But when our levity ; high spiced, 
conscious imaginations, are pitted with their dignity, gravity, 
single-mindedness, and earnestness, it is small wonder that 
we are at sixes and sevens. If we find three little girls, the 
well-brought-up, exemplary daughters of so pious, so nice, 
so scrupulous, so thoughtful a man; so fine a gentleman as 
was the Knight of the Tower, as familiar as with their garter 
with all those mysteries to which by wedlock alone is a 
woman supposed to have become initiated ; if we find him 
opening himself unreservedly to them on topics which 
never now could, or, at any rate, should be touched on, 
save of a mother, a pastor, or a family physician : if we 



Introduction. xvii 



find in the mouth of Froissart, the purest, the most 
etherial, subUme of well nigh all historiographers ; and even, 
too, under circumstances the most solemn, sad, and tragic ; 
words which, now-a-days to be recovered, must be hunted 
for mid the lowest canaille of the back slums of Paris — in 
the name of all that is reasonable and unreasonable, why- 
should we be cavilling at the same in the lay of a trouba- 
dour, or the prattle of a minstrel ? Now, if there cannot 
possibly have been any sort of indelicacy in the emploj^ 
ment of words — argue, or flatter ourselves to the contrary 
as we will — it only remains to be seen, does the imputed 
impropriety consist in the colouring? That any such 
freedom of colouring, as is generally supposed, is to be 
met with in the more reputable novels, such as Perce- 
forest, Launcelot, Huon de Bourdeaux ; or ballads, such 
as many to be seen in Percy ^ (for even in those days 
there were Tom Littles, Chevalier Faublas, and Harriet 
Wilsons,) I utterly deny. It is downright insanity to talk, 
a la Ascham, or La Noue, as I have often seen and heard it 
done, " of the unblushing effrontery with which the most 
barefaced intrigues are recounted." In the first place, 
there is hardly an intrigue in one of them, from the first 
to the last, such as ever did take place, or ever could take 
place, since human nature was constituted hmnan nature. 
This remark is only made to show that these writings are 
not, too implicitly, to be accepted as pictures of hygone 
times; and that they are nothing better than so many 
miserable, primitive, childish, chalk-on-the-wall skeletons^ 
daubings, of an age of comparative inexperience, if not 
innocence. So far from these pictures being drawn with 
the "most unblushing effrontery," I would, on the con- 
trary, say, that they are effected with the most laudable 

b 



xviii Introduction, 



and scrupulous delicacy. The simple fact is generally all 
of which the reader is apprised ; nothing beyond. Just 
compare the quietness, the consideration of the ten follow- 
ing words, which the reader will presently find in their 
place, in Saintre ; '' and when they were come out of the 
secret closet ;" without so much as a hint of, or an allusion 
to what, for all that, the youngest among us must surmise 
to have passed within ; I say, compare this with the dis- 
gusting, prurient, morbid, filthy pleasure with which a 
Eichardson trailed, through eight octavo volumes, his one 
idea, which same idea, from its very first conception, was 
lascivious and objectionable in the highest degree ? Com- 
pare it even with the innuendo, the transparency with 
which, at this very hour, intrigue, the grand staple of 
all romance, ancient or modern, as often as not is intro- 
duced. 

In support of the other allegation, that there is scarcely 

an intrigue in old romance ; at least as related, that ever 

did take place, or ever could take place, I would point to 

that of the abbot and the lady, which, in its general 

character, is an average sample of a disclosure of the kind. 

To suppose that what is there insinuated to have taken 

place, could, under the circumstances, have done so, and 

remained undetected, is to suppose a simple impossibility. 

Hence, though a great lady may have committed herself 

with her chaplain, as well in the fourteenth century as 

she might in the nineteenth, the tale of SaintrS is no 

evidence that this one did. Nature has her own ways of 

telling her tales ; tales which, though ear of man may 

ne'er have heard, yet eye of man will seldom fail to 

reach. Though morals may be outraged; indignant 

nature, roused, will ever be the vindicator, the pro- 



Introduction, 



XIX 



claimer, the asserter of her abused rights, of her insulted 
modesty. 

Of course, when I say that intrigue is seldom or never 
to be met with in the old romances, under circumstances 
which might lead us to suppose that it had even a founda- 
tion in fact, I only speak of intrigue with plot, not of 
cases where * it is merely alleged to have occurred under 
the commonplace, humdrum expedient of a dark night, a 
lantern, or a back meadow. 



For several reasons, which will at once occur to the 
more intelligent reader, T have appended to this romance 
of Sairttre, The Book of the Knight of the Tower. Some 
such soberer may not be altogether out of place, to qualify 
the injurious impressions which might have been left 
upon our minds by the perusal of this masterpiece of 
burlesque, of gaiety and waggery ; at least, masterpiece, 
considering the age in which it was produced. Though 
but a very small, and apparently frivolous sort of an effu- 
sion ; if I mistake not, it is one to arrest the attention of 
any thinking, or philosophic mind. It was the work of a 
man who might, in his younger days, have seen our hero, 
Saintre ; and whose labours besides had clearly been in the 
hands of the author of the romance now bearing Saintre's 
name. But what chiefly induces me to lay it before the 
reader is this, that it contains a very ample and masterly 
dissertation on loving par amour^ on which the whole 
moral of SaintrS hinges. And, by the way, en passant, 
I may be permitted to state, for the benefit of the Eight 
Honourable Lady-mothers, and their no less Eight 
Honourable and lovely daughters, whose home is in Belgra- 

b 2 



XX Introduction. 



via ; that a wrinkle or two, on a certain subject which shall 
be nameless, well worth attending to, might be caught, even 
at this late hour of the day, from this somewhat primitive 
young lady's manual. 

Now as every one, possibly, is not exactly aware of 
what loving par amour may be ; and as the English com- 
pound, paramour^ carries with it, in our times, an inju- 
rious implication, I will proceed to tell him, that, originally, 
it was not susceptible of any such construction. Love 
par amour simply meant, attachment between the sexes. 
I do not fancy, legitimately, that such a reference was 
applicable to the love of parents towards their children, or 
yet of children toward their parents. The difference 
would be about that which exists between the worth of 
the expressions, to love^ and to he in love. We love our 
parents, sisters, brothers ; we are in love with our mistresses, 
sweethearts. How we were supposed to love our wives ; 
whether par amour, or otherwise, or in what that other- 
wise was to consist, is, I confess, a problem which, as yet, 
I have not been able to get to the bottom of. And as the 
matter, besides, is somewhat delicate ; perhaps the less 
that is said on it the better. Love par amour was also 
honourable love ; that is, when it did not degenerate, in 
vulgar, sensual and imscrupulous spirits, into dishonourable. 
In the tale of the Knight, in Chaucer, we find Palamon, 
when vindicating his prior claim on Emily, fiercely 
announcing to his rival, Arcite, 

" And thou art false, I tell thee utterly, 
For par amour I loved her first, or (ere) thou." 

What character, honourable or dishonourable, the amour 
of Saintre and the lady of the Fair Cousins partook of, I 
am not prepared to say. Scott has unhesitatingly pro- 



Introduction, xxi 



nounced it to be of the latter. If, be it observed, I here 
speak of this amour as possibly having been of a dis- 
honourable nature, it will, of course, be understood, that 
I am employing the word dishonour able at its conventional 
acceptation ; for, according to their notions of these matters, 
such an intrigue would no more be looked on as dis- 
creditable, than would it at this day, to be the cavalier 
servente of an Italian countess. Deliberate seduction and 
abandonment was, unquestionably, dishonourable. But 
secret, loyal attachment, whether Platonic, or of a warmer 
complexion, was not so. I do not exactly know, myself, 
what to think of it ; that is, assuming the tale to be 
founded on fact, and not a very unduly-charged repre- 
sentation of the manners of the times ; nor, indeed, does 
it much signify. Doubtless such a man as Saintre was 
perfectly equal to all the enthusiasm, the celestiality (if 
there is such a Avord), idolatry, self-denial of the finest 
Platonic going of his age. Yet if he was, on the other 
hand, most assuredly he was not the man, through any 
straight-laced scruples, compunctions, either of conscience 
or of education, to stick to meet half way, if not a little 
beyond, the advances of the fair and frail one. If either 
way, I should be disposed to pronounce the connection to 
have been of a Platonic description; and for these reasons. 
Ere committing herself with the monk, it is to be observed, 
that the lady takes the precaution to wed him with a ring, 
a ceremony which, by some curious mental casuistry or 
other, she considered as entitling her to be a participator 
in the rights of matrimony. Such " left-handed," " under- 
the-rose " marriages seem not to have been unusual ; and 
even to have been solemnized with some sort of religious 
ceremony ; at least, if these knaves of minstrels, conteurs,. 



xxii Introduction. 



are to be relied on. Now, as much to Saintre, she never 
did. In the next place, the pith, the moral of the tale is, 
apparently, a good deal the same with that of the matron 
of Ephesus. The reaction ensuing upon immoderately- 
prolongued and insufferable distraction threw this hitherto 
irreproachable woman into the arms of a soldier. Had 
the relation in which Madame of the Fair Cousins stood 
with Saintre ever been of the character of intimacy alleged, 
I hardly fancy that she would so readily have forgotten 
herself with her friend, the abbot. That she was a woman 
of warm and ungovernable passions is clear enough. Yet, 
for all that, strong as may have been the temptation to 
gratify them with such a man as Saintre, it might have 
been yet stronger with such an one as the abbot. Apropos^ 
in chapter twenty-five of the Knight of the Tower will be 
seen a very curious instance of the lengths to which even 
respectable women would go with men whom they loved, 
yet contrive to preserve their chastity, if not reputation, 
unsullied. It is by no means impossible that the famili- 
arities hinted at by Montaigne, as passing between the 
sexes in the time of his father, may have partaken of, or 
have been to be traced to this character of intimacy and 
confidence. But enough of this; and to return to our 
Knight. 

I have translated his book for this also, among other 
accounts, that, trivial and even puerile as, superficially 
regarded, it may appear, few works of its size would 
seem to me to convey a pleasanter, more condensed, more 
truthful, more reliable, more suggestive notion of the 
general face of society in the middle age world. I think, 
besides, that it will serve to temper more popular impression, 
touching the state, when it was written, of public morals 



Introduction . xxiii 



and the general respectability. Nor can I gather from 
it that society was then, as a whole, in a much, if at all, 
a more disreputable condition than it is at this very hour. 
Circles, coteries were apparently more blended, confused, 
than they are among ourselves. Solicitations which, in 
our days, most unquestionably are rarely or never addressed 
by men of rank toward virtuous and artless females, their 
equals in the eye of the world ; but which, as unquestion- 
ably, they do address to those beneath them, were then 
unscrupulously persisted in. If he tells us, that the 
" good and the bad ladies " all met promiscuously, in his 
day, in the one hall, what is this more than acquainting us, 
that gentlemen and ladies of a certain class — the d^ Orsay, 
Blessington school — had the entree of all the castles and 
the chateaux round ? But if they had, I think, at the 
same time, he has made it sufficiently clear, that there 
was a very considerable per centage of the company toward 
whom they were expected to hold themselves at a pretty 
respectful distance. If he tells us, that when he was 
eighteen, he and a troop of harem-scar em, worthless young 
rascals used to go gallivanting about the world, making 
love to all the pretty women that they met with ; what is 
this more than saying, that the tricks which the youngsters 
of a cavalry regiment, in eighteen hundred and sixty-two, 
will make no sort of difficulty to play with tradesmen's 
wives, and farmers' daughters, were at that time attempted 
upon young women of their own position in life ? If a 
lady's virtue was then more liable to assault, so was it 
better fortified for the defence ; if more exposed, it was 
more on its guard. But to imagine that women were less 
wary of the care of their chastity, in the middle ages, than 
they are at this day ; that the penalties ensuing upon the 



xxiv Introduction. 



forfeit of the same were less fearful to be contemplated, is a 
very grievous scandal to cast upon those who no more can 
stand up in their own defence. I say not, women may not 
have staked it oftener, for they undeniably did ; but if 
they did, as the good lady de la Tour assures us^ and as 
even she of the Fair Cousins herself admits, dearly bought 
were such joys ; for little short were all their pleasures of 
the pains of hell, of martyrdom. And if the rendering 
up of her virtue was risky work with the lady, the game 
w^as no less a dangerous one for her betrayer or her lover. 
Husbands were no more complaisant in the fourteenth 
century than they are in the nineteenth ; nor yet were 
fathers, or ^vere brothers, less touchy on the score of a 
daughter's, or a sister's reputation. Damages were as 
liable to be incurred at that time as they are now ; with 
this little trifling difference, however, as to payment : 
that whilst, now-a-days, damages mostly go from the 
pocket, in the shape of a ten thousand pound cheque upon 
Coutts' : then, they as generally came in the shape of 
one pound upon the head, which, as frequently as not, 
settled one side at least of the account. 

There is nothing more common, or, at the same time, 
more unreasonable, than to see some one passage in a 
man's writings pitched upon, and comm.ented on, as a sort 
of text^ in total disregard of the general tone, moral, or 
tenor of his convictions. If the Knight, in his old age, 
speaks with a pang of the licence of his own time ; if he 
longs again for the days of Sir Geoffrey ; be it remembered, 
that that self-same time which he was so ardently praying 
for, was the very one in which he, and all the mad young 
scamps with him, were galloping about the country, up to 
all kinds of devihnent and mischief. So, we see, the 



Introduction, xxv 



world had not so very much wandered from its wonted 
ways in forty or in fifty years ; or, as he himself expresses 
it, " the times present were but too like the times past." 
If Sir Geoffrey was dead, the Knight himself was alive, 
and the head of an household which must have spread an 
halo of purity and sanctity over fifty miles of region 
round. If the old lady de Belle Ville was no more ; his 
own wife was spared to him and to the world ; as were 
*' more good ladies, in France, and beyond its metes, than 
he would have power to tell of." Surely this is no mean 
testimony to the virtue and respectability of the ages of 
chivalry ! It should be enough to balance, and more than 
balance the authority of a thousand such mercenary, 
unscrupulous, worthless, lying dogs as were the minstrels 
and the troubadours. 

In conclusion, I have only one favour to ask at the hands 
of the reader ; and that is, whatever else he may be disposed 
to skip, that he will read the character which the Knight 
has left to us of '' An honourable lady'' A more sub- 
lime, a more touching, a more affecting, a more enchant- 
ing picture of heaven upon earth, I say not, another may 
not have read ; but this I do say, I never have. It should 
be written in letters of gold ; '' it should be bound for a 
sign upon our hands, and for frontlets between our eyes." 



I have but one word to add ; it is somewhat an ungra- 
cious one ; and willingly had I spared, as well to myself, 
as to the reader, the expression of the same. 

I am sure, when I recall the unusually kind and 
flattering manner in which was received, I may say, on 
every hand, a previous endeavour to accommodate to the 



xxvi Introduction. 



public taste, some few of the more picturesque and striking 
passages to be gathered from the old French chroniclers 
and romancers ; and when I still farther recall the very 
great indulgence (unhappily no less than was required) 
with which one or two somewhat salient features of an 
Introduction, none, at best, of the most judicious, were 
winked at ; conscience cannot but tell me, that it were 
something worse than graceless, on my part, to call any 
unnecessary attention to the same. Nor should I now 
allude to the matter, did I not very clearly foresee, that, a 
second time, I am no less liable to be exposed to a similar 
character of exception. And had this objection been 
started but in any one quarter, I had not felt it at all in- 
cumbent upon me to attempt to remove it : on the contrary, 
it was a very generally prevailing one. 

Here, it was said, is a man who takes upon himself 
the defence, in a Preface of considerable length, not, on 
the whole, unreasonably, though somewhat jumblingly 
written, of the coarseness and the raciness of our old 
masters ; who tells us, that it is discreditable the treat- 
ment to which, one and all, we are subjecting them ; that, 
however much is due to ourselves, something is also due 
to them, as, no less, to posterity ; who, possibly, may be 
but little disposed to thank us for all this meddling ; that 
the age is becoming emasculate, enervate; in a word, 
who pleads for a somewhat broader tolerance, if not of the 
licence, the homeliness, which our sensitiveness has now 
become much too crazy to put up with. But, lo, and behold, 
in turning over the pages of his book, where all these fine 
hardy propositions are to be carried out, not a word can 
we find which might not be placed in the hands of any 
" boarding-school," or "bread-and-butter Miss !" In fact, 



Introduction, 



XXVll 



he has ^' shirked " the whole question. Surely, surely, 
there is some little thoughtlessness in all this. The charge 
is a true one enough ; I deny it not. But if I allow to 
as much, may I not, in return, be permitted to inquire, 
'* What sort of ta%te had it been for me to assume to myself 
the decision of any such matter ; to take for granted that 
the public would be with me? Could anything have 
been more unjustifiable, nay, unprincipled, than to have 
intruded anything of the kind upon society, previously 
unfurnished with the consent of that society ? Surely had 
I, I had merited, and richly merited, that my book had 
been damned. Was I, at once, to take upon myself the 
functions of advocate and of judge ? It is the business 
of an advocate to plead as warmly, as closely as he 
pleases, or as he can ; but it is not his business to take the 
law into his own hands : with the judge and with the jury 
it must ever abide to pronounce, Has he a reason, or has 
he not ? Besides, it might have been observed, that if I 
entreated for a tolerance of, and somewhat of a return to, 
the homely, healthy, broad, coarse nervousness and 
pleasantry which were the characteristics of an Eliza- 
bethan world ; at the same time the precaution was taken 
to suggest the only method by which I conceived it to be 
possible for society to retrace, in so delicate a matter, its 
steps. I hinted that the ground should be broken among 
our younger people, in our public schools. Passages, 
expressions, words, which it would be exceedingly dis- 
tressing to me to hear from the lips of any grown-up 
female ; a sister, a daughter, or a wife ; I would, without 
a moment's hesitation, place in the mouth of my child ; 
that is, always, if another, in my own position, would 
consent to do as much with his. 



xxviii Introduction. 



The whole pith and marrow of what I have advanced, 
or have to advance on this head, is this : — that the entire 
matter at issue is rather a question of obsoleteness, or of 
non-ohsoleteness ; of fashion^ of custom, and of mariners, 
than of either a real or an ideal propriety — that the 
bringing up, and the bringing up alone of our children, to 
consider this to be objectionable, indelicate ; that to be the 
reverse, will, in nine cases out of ten, in after-life, be the 
only reason which they will be able to advance for ivhy 
they hold the said this to be defended, the said that not to 
be defended — that if it can be demonstrated, that, despite 
of all our refining, the even level of the public manners, 
morals, remains pretty much, to this hour, what it has 
been for the last four hundred years, then must it be but 
simply ridiculous to be pandering, on the score of a regard 
for the public safety, to all this miserable fastidiousness — 
that it is a very hard thing that the weak are to be allowed 
to dictate to the strong, the ignorant to the learned, the 
women and the children to the men, bigots and fanatics to 
strong men ; that the mawkishness of our fine ladies, and 
of our fine gentlemen is to be scraped to, and catered after, 
whilst the more imperious hungerings and thirs tings of 
downright English, beef and beery blood, and brain, and 
nerve are to be left unprovided for : " if they are virtuous, 
is there, for that, to be no more cake and wine ?" — that th^ 
parties who are clamouring for, and have carried all these 
innovations, are such as are in no way competent to form to 
themselves the remotest conception of all the mischief that 
they, and such as they, are playing with letters ; and ones 
whose interest, comparatively speaking, is but very second- 
ary in the matter — that no man can either foresee or foretell 
where all this work is to end, if* on every hand, we are 



Introduction. xxix 



to be inundated with parallel and castrated editions of our 
more ancient standard literature — that it is positively 
incredible the amount of good, wholesome, sterling, 
innocent, curious, characteristic, available, entertaining 
reading, (witness this very Booh of the Knight,) which, 
to such a pass have we brought ourselves, that it is 
risen at of our queasy palates, as is plum-porridge of a 
kickshawed stomach — that there is an infinite presump- 
tion and offensiveness in any man, and I care not one fico 
who he be, setting himself up to be a being of a more 
innate delicacy than was a Shakespeare, or of a purer 
morality than was a Scott — that lives there the lady, this 
day, in this land, be she a Portia^ or be she a Desdemona^ 
yet so be, she can no more abide the jabber of her Amelia^ 
or of her Nerissa : ay, be she fine as she who, ' ' for very 
delicateness and tenderness would not so much as set the 
sole of her foot to the ground ;" yet for all that, must I 
be allowed to tell to her, as to all such like angels, or such 
birds of paradise, that the sooner they unbend their 
pinions, wing their flight to heaven, that heaven from 
whence they came, the better will it be for themselves, as 
for all those whom they may leave behind them : what 
have they to do with flesh, with blood, with ashes, or 
with dust ? From all which considerations, with an 
hundred others, which will readily present themselves to 
the mind of any intelligent reader, the conclusion that I 
came to was this ; that the sacrifice required at our hands, 
bears no manner of proportion to the banefulness of the 
remedy which is rendering that sacrifice imcalled for : 
that it would be much a shorter way to settle the matter, 
to place the whole affair in the hands of the guardians and 
instructors of our youth ; and for ourselves, ('tis but for 



XXX Introduction, 



one generation,) to bear with any unavoidable unpleasant- 
ness incurring therefrom, just as we do with all the other 
little mishaps, exposes, and awkwardnesses which the 
necessities of children for ever are entailing on the aged, 
their parents, and society. 

I have now done. The subject, I may be well believed 
when I say it, is one upon which I shall not readily return. 
And goodness knows, no less, it is one of which I had 
rather undertaken the defence, out of a sense of principle 
and conscience, than either with the desire or intention ; 
supposing myself to be possessed of the capability, which I 
am not, to turn to account the solicited concession. I am 
not going to kick against the pricks ; nor yet am I, to 
make myself ridiculous by embarking in any such crusade 
against the prejudices, or the manners of the age. I am 
no such fool. I have far too much self-respect. I know 
far too well what is due both from myself and to myself; if 
not who I am, what I am, to allow myself to figure in any 
so preposterous or Quixotic a light before the world. And 
though this self-same world will ever hold its self-same 
course, will wag its wonted way, despite of all that I, or 
any other man, can say or do to the contrary ; yet still, 
and no less, and ever, will this eternal truth be true — 
*' That wisdom will be justified of her children." 



December^ 1862. 



CONTENTS. 



Preface to Paris Edition^ 1724 . ^ . . . xi 

Chapter i. — Eoiv Jehan de Baintre came to he in attendance 
at the Court of King John^of France^ as loage of honour ; he 
in 'particular ivaitmg on the King. — And first, of my said 
Lady of the Fair Cousins J a7id of Saintre . , . i 

Chapter 2. — Eow in the Court of the Queen of France, there 
tvas a young Lady, luho on no account ivould remo.rry, not- 
Withstanding she was pressed hy many ; and of the instances 
which she rejplied touching the Ladies of the olden times . 2 

Chapter 3. — How the said young Lady deliherated in her own 
mind, how she luould cause the little Saintre to he heard of in 
the world ; and of how she sent for him to her chamher, ash- 
ing him, '^Who luas his lady love V\dame par amours) ; and 
at which the little Baintre was quite put out, and coidd not 
answer her a word; except that at last he said, " Ae had 
none^^ ........ 6 

Chapter 4. — Row the little Baintre, as in desperation, and 
one tuho had never yet experienced the sweets of love, told the 
Lady, that Matheline de Coucy ivas his lady love ; which 
Matheline luas hut six years of age . . . • 15 

Chapter 5.- — How the Lady instructed, the little Baintre in 
sundry scdutary doctrines and matters, touching the manner 
in which he was to he enahled to flee the seven deadly sins . 17 

Chapter 6.—Hoiv the Lady gives some further instructions to 
the little Baintre, touching the virtues, state, and order of 
nohility ...... — - - » . 29 

Chapter 7. — How the Lady determined to come at the favour- 
ahle or unfavourahle impression left upon the little Baintre, 
in the matter of love par amour . . . '34 

Chapter 8. — How the Lady opened her heart to the little 
Baintre, shoiving him that it luas she ivho was ivilling to love 
him ........ 36 

c 2 



iv . Contents, 



PAGE 

Chapter 9. — How the Lady admonished the young Saintre 
touching the ten commandments of the laiu, and in lohat con- 
sisted the virtues and good breeding .... 37 

Chapter 10. — Hoiu the Lady, already smitten luith the love of 
the little Saintre, gave him tiuelve ecus to set himself up with, 
and to have himself nicely dressed . . . .51 

Chapter ii. — Hoio the little Saintre had himself finely set out, 
as the Lady had desired him. And after, lioiv the said Lady 
found him in the gallery, and made him folloio her into her 
chamber ; inquiring of him, — What device was that he luore? 
And this on purpose, so that her Gentleivomen might not sus- 
pect anything ; and hoiv she gave him yet other twelve ecus 
in a parse . . . . . . • 52 

Chapter 12. — Eow the Lady feignedly menaced the little 
Saintre, telling him hefore her ladies that he tvoidd never do 
any good. And how, after that, the little Saintre had other 
clothes made with the money which Madame had given him ; 
and hoiu the Lady spoke to him., and he told her that it was 
his mother who had sent him the money with which he had 
dressed himself , . , . . . .62 

Chapter 13. — How the Lady suggested to the Queen that she 
should speech to the King to make the little Saintre his tren- 
cher squire . . • . • . .67 

Chapter 14. — How the little Saintre thanked the King and 
Queen, and Madame, for that he had heen made a squire; 
and how he carved hefore the King, and how handsomely he 
acquitted himself . , • . . .70 

Chapter 15. — How the little Saintre spoke with Madame, luho 
kissed him affectionately, in the meadow ; and how she gave 
him a hundred and sixty ecus to provide horses, and other 
things necessary . . . • . . •71 

Chapter 16. — How the little Saintre provided himself with 
horses, as Madame had desired him ; and how, ivhen he came 
to thank her, she admonished him, and taught him how he 
was to conduct himself, as well at Court as in war, and in 
all other positions . . . . . .76 

Chapter 17. — Hoiu the Lady advised the little Saintre to read 

hooks and romances, so as to he acquainted with the manners 

and the achievements of the nobles of the olden time . .79 

Chapter 18. — Hoiv the little Saintre threw himself on his knees 

hefore Madame and thanked her, and how the King a7id 



Contents. 



Queen gave him money to set him up. And hoiu, at length, 
Madame told him that he was to have a bracelet, enamelled, 
and of her devicey for the first of May, and that he was to 
wear it for an entire year, and to defend it in the lists 
against one Knight or other . . . . .81 

Chapter 19. — Hoiv the little Saintre thanhed Madame, and 
then had the bracelet made, as she had desired him ; and 
after, how he came and showed it to her, at which she was 
delighted • . . , . • • S5 

Chapter 20. — How the Lady instructed the little Saintre, that 
he should announce his intention, through an Herald-at-arms, 
— Hovj the best dancer, whether Squire or Lady, should have 
a suitable prize, and how he luas to put his bracelet on his 
arm. — After, how Saintre gave a banquet to all the Lords 
and Ladies. — And how, at night, he returned to the meadow^ 
to speak ivith the Lady, who told hira, he should puhlish his 
Letter-at-arms in the Comis of the four Kings . • 87 

Chapter 21. — Ifow the little Saintre went to the King and 
Queen, to break to them his Letter-at-arms, and obtain their 
permission to send it ; ivhich the King consented to, though 
much against his luill . . . . . ,89 

Chapter 22. — Kow the little Saintre entered triumphantly 
into the lists, and of his noble equipment. — And how he 
carried himself so valiantly, that he ivas honoured and ap- 
plauded of all . . , . . . •91 

Chapter 23. — How Saintre came to the mead.ow to speah with 
Madame, and how he retailed to her, point by point, how he 
was equipped; what officers and parties he had provided^ to 
accompany him on his voyage. — And how the Lady ivanted 
to know about his colours and his arms ; and how they took 
leave of one anotJier, ^ mid piteous tears and sighs . .92 

Chapter 24. — How the Lady told the Queen, how sumptuously 
Saintre was set up in horses and equijjage; and how the said 
Queen desired Saintre to bring his horses into the court, so 
tlmt she might see them, ivhich he did, and how the King and 
Queen saw them, and commended them . . '95 

Chapter 25. — How Saintre, as soon as he teas ready to set out, 
came to ask the King for permission to depart, to accompAish 
his enterprise ; which thing the King allowed to, though sorry 
to see him go - . . . . . .98 

Chapter 26. — How Saintre was in the meadow, to take leave of 



vi Contents. 



the Lady, who admonished him again of all he was to do. — 
And how, at last, they parted from one another ; not, how- 
ever, without abundance of tears, as tvell on the one side as 
the other . , , . . • . -99 

Chapter 27. — How Saintre took his farewell of the King, the 
Queen, and the Ladies, to each of whom he gave a golden 
wand. — And how the Queen ashed, '^ If there was not one 
for her ?" On which he gave her one, excusing himself, say- 
ing, " he had not thought she would condescend to care for 
such a trifle'^ ....... 102 

Chapter 28. — How, after Saintre had taken his leave of the 
Barons, and Lords of the Court, he went away to dine with 
his companions ; and how, when at dinner, the Queen sent 
him a rich cloth of silver ; and several Lords subsidies and 
presents. — And hoiv he had himself escorted, at his outset, hy 
the heralds, trumpets, and musicians ; giving them a supper 
at the hurgh of the Queen, where he lodged . . .104 

Chapter 29. — Hoiv Saintre, being at Avignon, the Anjou King- 
at-arms brought him the seal, and the reply to his Letter-of- 
arms ; and told him all hoiu he had spoken ivith Enguerranty 
and published the Letter- of -arms, at ivhich he ivas delighted 106 

Chapter 30. — Hoiv the Anjou King-at-arms told Saintre, that 
the King of Arragon had consented that Enguerrant should 
deliver him from his engagement ; and how he had given him 
a gracious reception ; at which Saintre and his companions 
vjere beyond expression delighted , . . •108 

Chapter 31. — Hoiv Saintre, being at Perpignan, the news came 
to the King of Arragon, ivho appointed him lodgings at Bar- 
celona. — And after, how Enguerrant came out, a good league, 
from the town to meet him; and how honourably he received 
him ; and of the civilities and discourse that passed between 
them . . . . , , . .Ill 

Chapter 32. — Hoiv Sir Enguerrant presented Saintre to the 
King, and to the Queen, loho gave him a most handsome 
reception, and solemnly feasted him . • . • 113 

Chapter 33. — How Saintre entered magnificently into the lists, 
surrounded by a noble assemblage of Princes and of Knights ; 
and of the order of the day . , , , • 1 1 5 

Chapter 34. — How Sir Enguerrant besides entered the lists, in 
a like triumpha7it array (omitted) , . , • 117 

Chapter 35. — How the King had the lances of the two cham^ 



Contents, vii 



pious measured. — And how 'popularly Saint re demeaned 
himself, in passing before the King and Queen: they in 
their boxes . . . . . . .118 

Chapter 36. — How Saintre made the sign of the cross three 
times before he couched his lance: then, how the two cham- 
pions encountered valiantly. — And how, the first day, the 
King made Enguerrant retire the first from the lists ; say- 
ing, that Saintre had tvon for that day . . .119 

Chapter 37. — How the King sent for the two champions to 
sup with him. — And how, on the following day, they re- 
turned to the lists, performing prodigies, one upon the other . 120 

Chapter 38. — How the Hercdd-at-arms pro^nounced the de- 
cision of tlie victory; that Saintre had gained it. — Of the 
prizes and courtesies exchanged between them ; and of their 
leaving the lists . . • . . . .123 

Chapter 39. — How Saintre, cfier he had heard, mass, sent by 
tiuo He7'alds-at-arms two axes to Sir Enguerrant, as re- 
quired by the terms of his challenge. — And after, how the 
King sent his Herald to signify to Saintre the hour he was 
to be at the lists . . . . . , .125 

Chapter 40. — How the two chamjnons entered, for the third 
time, solemnly into the lists . . , . .126 

Chapter 41. — How they issued from their tents to perform 
their Arms . . . . . . .128 

Chapter 42. — Hoic they marched one against the other; each 
doing valiantly . . . . . . .128 

Chapter 43. — How Saintre took leave of the King and Queen, 
and of all those of the Court ; and of the presents that ivere 
made (partly omitted) . . . , . .135 

Chapter 44. — How Saintre, accompanied by all the Lords, 
departed from Barcelona, on his way for France (omitted) . 136 

Chapter 45. — How Saintre and his companions came; and of 
the good reception which they met with from the King^ the 
Queen, Madame, and the rest . . . • .136 

Chapter 46. — How Saintre, by dint of journeying, made his 
appearance before the King, and of the honours and good cheer 
which were made him ; and. how Madame^ s heart was cured 138 

Chapter 47. — Hei^e tells how Saintre became Chamberlain to 
the King, and of the alliances between him, and Myngre, 
otherwise Bouciqualt , . . . . .140 

Chapter 48. — How Madame desired Saintre to deliver the ^ 



viii Contents. 



Folisli Baron from the enterprise he had undertaken (tlie first 
portion of this Chapter is omitted) • . . .142 

Chapter 49. — How Madame bemoaned herself to Saintre, and 
of the tender things she said to him . . . .146 

Chapter 50. — How the Lord de Loiselench and Saintre came 
into the lists, to "perform their arms on horseback : presen t, 
the King^ the Queen, and many Lords and Ladies (the open- 
ing portion of this Chapter is omitted) . . .148 

Chapter 51. — Hoio the Lord de Loiselench and Saintre entered 
the lists, to perform their arms on foot (the account of this 
combat is omitted) . . . . . .152 

Chapter 52. — The manner the King ordered the prizes to be 
distributed (partly omitted) . . . • '153 

Chapter 53. — How the Lord de Loiselench supped with the 
Ki7ig (omitted) . . . . . •154 

Chapter 54. — How the Lord de Loiselench took his leave 
(Several passages in this Chapter are omitted) . .154 

Chapter 55. — How Sir NicoUes de Malle- Teste, and Gallias 
of Mantua, Squire, came to the Court to perform their 
arms . . . . . . . .156 

Chapter 56. — How Saintre and Bouciqualt luent in search of 
the two champions, to bring them to the King of France ; and 
of how they fought with them . . . . • i59 

Chapter ^'j.—How Saintre tilted against the Baron de Tresto, 
and they were adjudged equal (the opening portion of this 
Chapter is passed over) . . . . .161 

Chapter 58. — How the Lady asked Saintre to set out for 
Prussia, against the Saracens, and he promised to go; and 
how tlie King made him the head of five hundred lances (the 
opening and concluding portions of this Chapter are passed 
over) . . . . . • 161 

Chapter 59. — How, when the time was come, that they were 
to set out for Prussia, the King gave his standard to Saintre, 
constituting him his Lieutenant, — And after, how the said 
Saintre and the other Lords took their leave of the King, the 
Queen, and the Ladies ; and of the great mourning there was 
at their departure; especially on the part of Madame . 163 

Chapter 60. — How the Saracens were in a greater number of 
Turks and infidels than had ever been seen together since the 
time of Mahomet (the order of the battles omitted) . .169 

Chapter 61. — How, in the battle of the Saracens, Saintre, at 



Contents. ix 



the very first ondauglit, slew the Grand Turk, and did so luell 
his work, that all the infidels made ivay for Mm. — And then, 
of how the Emperor of Carthage, the two Soldans of Babylon, 
and Mahaleth, the Grand Turk, ivere hilled; with many others, 
as well on the one part as the other (omitted) . .171 

Chapter 62. — How the news were blown about everyiuhere, but 
especially into France, how Saintre had performed pjrodigies ; 
and of how, in particidar, among other things, he had killed 
the Grand Turk, and trampled on his banner ; at which the 
King was greatly delighted, and thanked God, and all the 
Saints, in great solemnity. , . . . .172 

Chapter 63. — How Saintre and all his noble host of French 
Christians, after the overthroiu of the infidels, returned to 
Paris, luhere they vjere joyfully received of the King, the 
Queen, and. all the realm . . . . • I73 

Chapter 64. — How Saintre told the King that, to show that he 
was really glad to see him back, he should let him sleep with 
the Queen; which the King promised him. — And how the 
Queen, quite tickled, asked him, " Wlmt, on earth, Imd put 
such a piece of assurance into his head ?" — And after, how, 
at midnight, he went to speak with the Lady alone ; who gave 
him the kindest reception in the world; not, however, without 
many kisses and embracing s . , . . .176 

Chapter 65. — How Saintre deliberated with himself to wear a 
golden vizor for the space of three years; and hoio the King 
consented to it, though much against his will , . • i79 

Chapter 66. — How Saintre went to speak with his Lady in the 
meadow, and how he told her of his enterprise; at which she 
was horribly vexed and displeased. — But how, being passion- 
ately entreated by Saintre, at last she gave him her consent, 
placing his ensign on his shoulder . • . .183 

Chapter 67. — How the ten companions came, in the morning, 
to see the King (partly omitted) . . . ,186 

Chapter 68. — Hoiu the King spoke with Saintre; and of the 
presents tliat he made to him, and his companions (partly 
omitted) . . . , . . .190 

Chapter 69. — How Madame arrived at her country house ; 
and of how she was received . . . . • i94 

Chapter 70. — How Madame and Damp Abbot fell into dis- 
course, and of how she thanked him . , . .201 

Chapter 71. — How Damp Abbot was extolled • . • 202 



X Contents. 



Chapter 72. — How Madame found herself compelled to take 
part in the collation . . , . . .204 

Chapter 73. — How Madame and her Women praised Damp 
Abbot, the one to the other . . . , .205 

Chapter 74. — Eoiu the Queen wrote, the first time, to Madame 210 

Chapter 75. — Hoiu Madame, without waiting for any further 
explanations, made her answer to the Queen . , .211 

Chapter 76. — Sow Madame handed her letters to Master 
Julien, and gave him his instructions . . . .213 

Chapter 77. — Sow the Lord de Saintre and his companions 
came to the Court of the Emperor ; and hoiv, to their great 
honour, they were delivered hy the Lords, hereinafter named; 
being all noblemen, and men of fame and reputation 
(omitted) . . . . . v .216 

Chapter 78. — How the French arrived, and of the honours 
luej^e joa id them (omitted) • . . . .216 

Chapter 79. — How the battle ivent, and of the ordnance of the 
Emperor (omitted) . • . • . ,217 

Chapter 80. — How the Imperial King-at-arms distributed the 
p>rizes, and ivhat he said to the champions (omitted) . .217 

Chapter 81. — How the Lord de Saintre and his companions 
returned to Paris, and came to see the King . . .217 

Chapter 82. — How Damp Abbot appeased the Lord de Saintre 235 

Chapter 83. — Of the state in ivhich Madame, Damp Abbot, 
and all their people luere left . . . . •249 

Chapter 84. — How Madame returned to the Court . .250 

Chapter 85. — How Madame came to the Court, and of the 
good reception she met luith . . . • .252 

Chapter 86. — How the Lord de Saintre, without, however, 
Tiuming any one, gave them the history of Madame, Damp 
Abbot, and himself ; and how he gave Madame bach her belt : 
present the Queen, and many other Ladies and- Gentle- 
women . . » . . . . '253 

Notes . . . . • . . . •259 




PREFACE TO THE PARIS EDITION OF 1724. 



IF the rarity, and the price of a work, are to be any 
index to its merit, one would think that that of 
Saintre should be caught at with avidity. A copy was 
sold for ninety-seven livres, ten sols, at the sale of the 
library of the late M. BuUeteau, first Secretary to the 
King. And the one from which the present impression is 
taken cost the publishers one hundred and eighty livres. 
It is a little octavo, in double columns, and Gothic cha- 
racter ; and was printed at Paris, by Philippe le Noir, in 
1 5 23. It also seems that the author, who was one Antoine 
DE LA Salles, as appears by his Preface, addressed to my 
Lord of Anjou, Duke of Calabria and Lorraine, and Mar- 
quis de Pont, wrote it in the year 1459. "^^^^^ ^^7 ^® 
gleaned from the end of the book, where is a letter ad- 
dressed to the same Duke of Anjou, to whom he further 
promises some other matters, to be gathered from the 
chronicles of Flanders. 

However much diligence 1 may have applied to discover 
what the author of this romance was, the simplicity of the 
style of which is altogether so remarkable, I have been un- 
able to arrive at any certain conclusion. As far as one can 
conjecture, he was a gentleman of quality, and attached to 
the Court of Lorraine. And this is to be inferred from the 



xii Preface to the Paris Edition, 

Preface, which is prefixed to the history of Sir Floridan 
and the fair Mlinde ; the author of which, Race de Brin- 
chamel, addresses him ; and in which Preface he observes, 
that he has just finished, according to his instructions, a 
book entitled, The Little Nuptial ; treating of Marriages^ 
according to the Statutes and Laws, Again, as much is to 
be concluded, from a passage, not far from the close of the 
same history, wherein the author demeans himself towards 
Antoine de la Salles in the following manner : — " So, my 
very redoubted Lord^ as humbly as L am able, and with 
joined hands, I have to beg and entreat of you, that you 
will take, of a little owner, a little offeririg, of a poor ser- 
vant, the good wishes — from one ever tendering himself to the 
loyal, honourable, and desirable services of your noble orders, 
^(?." Now, it is hardly to be supposed that Brinchamel 
would ever have expressed himself in terms of so mucli 
submissness, had not Antoine de la Salles been a man of 
some condition. 

But to return to our novel. If the author has made us 
acquainted with all the persons of quality, and left us the 
names of all the nobles of the times of which his history 
treats ; and if he describes to us, exactly, their several 
arms, (which, in itself, is no mean merit,) he does not, the 
less, avail himself of the licence common to almost all ro- 
mancers ; for he takes, for his foundation, an anachronism 
that would be unpardonable in any work pretending to 
seriousness, or truth. He lays the scene of his romance at 
the Court of King Jaen, and of the Queen, Bonne, (as ap- 
pears by his second chapter) ; now this Bonne, of Bohe- 
mia, was never known by the rank of Queen. 

This is the manner in wliich Mezeray speaks of them : 
" We are not to reckon Bonne, of Bohemia, the first wife 



Preface to the Paris Edition, xiii 

of Jaen^ among the number of the Queens ; inasmuch as 
she died before her husband succeeded to the croivn. In 
reality, she married Jaen when he was but Duke of Nor- 
mandi/^ in 1332. She died in January^ 1349/ <^^d Jaen 
only came to the croivn 22nd August, 1350. 

At his second nuptials^ the i^th February, 1349, he 
married Jeanne de Boulogne, widow of Philip2?e de Bour- 
gogne. 

He was taken prisoner at the battle of Poitiers, in 1356 ; 
and died^ the 8th April, 1364; having reigned but four- 
teen years. 

So that it is clear, that all we are told of Saintre cannot 
possibly have taken place under the reign of King Jaen. 
Hence, to give an air of probability to his story, it was 
necessary for the author to lay the plot under Charles VI, ; 
or, at any rate, Charles V., called^ The Wise, And this 
appears the more clearly, because the Dukes of Anjou, 
Berry, and Bourgogne, and styled the King's brothers, 
were, in reality, brothers to Charles V., and sons of King 
Jaen ; who had only one brother, namely, Philippe, Duke 
of Orleans, who died childless. 

As regards the little Jehan de Saintre, it is only with 
the greatest difficulty that I have been able to discover 
who his family were. This is what I found about them, 
in a manuscript endorsed, Notes as well Historical as 
Genealogical, vol, 279; aiid the ^rd of the Grovernors of 
the Provinces, chiefiy those of Anjou ; and borrowed from 
the c^inet of M. de Clerambaut, genealogist of the 
various orders of the King, and who kindly has lent it to 
me, as well as thrown what light he could upon the mat- 
ter. Jaen de Saintre^ or otherwise, Xaintre, Knight^ 
Seneschal of Anjou and of 3Iaine, erijoyed, along with the 



XIV Preface to the Paris Edition. 

authority of this charge^ that of Lieutenant to the Lord 
de Craon in the year 1355 ; anc?, under him^ commanded 
thirty men-at-arms. In this same year^ the same Lord de 
GraoUj Pierre de Craon, the Lord de la Suze, Guillaume 
de Craon, Viscount de Chateaudun, and him ; that is to 
say, Saintre^^ joined in an attempt to clear out one called 
Rennequin, captain of Plain in Bretagne, on the part of 
the Lord de Clisson, one of the principal chiefs of the 
Bretons, then in rebellion. Apparently on his own account, 
we find Saintre endeavouring, by every means in his power, 
to render himself master of the castle of Chautoce. To this 
end, he tampered ivith Lambert de Giuerard, Gerardin de 
la Fontaine, and Jean de Saintonge ; and the price of their 
defection was to have been ten thousand florins of gold, in 
ecus. Six thousand he was to hand over as soon as he got 
the place. But they broke the matter to the four Lords, 
and made another treaty with them, which the king (Jaen) 
confirmed m 1355. By it, it was secured to them, that, in 
the event of the stratagem- succeeding, they were to have six 
thousand ecus ; besides which, they were each to receive a 
thousand ecus from the King next coming Lent ; that they 
were to have the four most considerable prisoners, with a 
third of the expenses of the expedition; that Lambert 
Gerard luas to be recompensed with a grant of 100 livres of 
rent, in land, with the office of Sarjeant-at-Arms ; and, be- 
sides that, they were to keep any prisoners they might have 
already made ; and that Guyard, the German, and Pierot, 
the Bourgignon, were to be liberated out of prison, free of 
all ransom. 

This Lord de Saintre held different appointments in 
the various wars ; and deservedly is paralleled with the 
Mareschal de Boucicaut, vjith this difference only, that 



Preface to the Paris Edition, xv 

if he was inferior to him in point of tact^ address — in 
all matters of stratagem, negotiation — he surpassed him as 
invariably in the open field ; nor did any man ever hazard 
himself more daringly, either in single combat or to the 
thichest of the assault. 

He ivas of an ancient Vendomois house^ the fame of 
which he enhanced, not a little, hy his exploits ; and the 
memory of which will he for ever preserved in the Romance 
of Little Jehan de Saixtr:^. It is an extraordinary 
medley of fact and fiction ; most pleasantly written^ con- 
sidering the age, ofivhich it represents the tone, the temper^ 
the manners, and the customs, with a naivete altogether 
the most arch and surprising, 

Se had, for his arms, guelle a la hande d'or, hrisee ddun 
lamhel d'or, de quatre pieces, et pour cimier, un bois de 
cerf ; and tliis answers, as far as regards the bend and 
the crest, to the seals attached to the original documents 
and deeds, which I have seen at M. de Clerambaut's ; 
especially to a quittance, in 1355, given by Jean de 
Saintre, Seneschal of Anjou and of Maine, for 450 livres ; 
being the wages received of himself and the 30 men-at- 
arms, from Amanry, Lord de Craon, and Lieutenant of the 
King, in the departmients of Anjou and of Maine. 

I discovered, besides these, an extract from the Parlia- 
mentary register, bearing date the 20th of November, 
1386, in virtue of which the patrimony of Jeanne de 
Thoiiars, wife to Sir Jean de Saintre, an(? then dead, was 
adjudged to her husband. 

We have now to examine, if the Saintre referred to in 
the manuscript of M. de Clerambaut is the one who 
figures in our romance. There is every reason to believe 
that he was not ; and that this latter was the son of the 



xvi Preface to the Paris Edition, 

one of whom I have just spoken, and on this ground : 
because we see, from different evidences, that, in the 
year 1355, he assumed the rank of Knight ; whereas the 
Little Jehan de Saintre was only made a Knight, by the 
King of Bohemia, the day of the great battle with the 
Saracens ; as appears by Chapter LX. Up to that time, he 
had enjoyed no other title than that of Squire, which, as 
being a Knight's son, he had a right to. That his father 
was a Knight, appears, in fact, from the terms in which the 
Lady of the Fair Cousins, at the commencement of the 
58th chapter, addresses him ; " and, for these reasons^'' says 
she, " I have been thinking^ that really, it is time you 
should he as all your predecessors have been : that is to say, 
I think you have, at length, sufficiently distinguished 
yourself to warrant your being made a Knight, as all your 
ancestors have been. Besides, it was customary, at that 
time, for sons to charge their father's arms, in the lifetime 
of the latter. It was apparently, for this reason, that 
Saintre charged with a lambel. Hence, there is every 
cause to believe, that those which I have just described are 
those of Little Jehan de Saintre^ and not of his father, 
who, according to all appearances, was this Sir Jean de 
Saintre, Seneschal of Anjou and of Maine ; and who had 
the hero of our romance by Jeanne Chaudrie, as is alleged 
in the manuscript of M. de Clerambaut ; as is also, that 
this Jeanne de Thoiiars, who died in 1386, was the wife 
of Little Jehaii de Saintre, to whom her goods were con- 
signed by an order of Parliament. 

However all this be, the families of Saintre, in 
Vendomois, or Touraine, of which I have given the arms ; 
and those of Saintre, Lords de Breviande and de Dizier, 
whose arms were de sable, au chef d' argent, are now extinct. 



Preface to the Paris Edition. xvii 

The house of Saintre, which still is to be found in 
Normandy, is not descended from any one of those stocks 
which I have named. Their arms are, de guelles a trois 
coquilles d'or. They are Lords de Grand-Pre, in the 
parish of Vatteville, election of Ponteau-de-Mer, and 
generality of Alencon. Their name is Cintray. 

Touching the Lady of the Fair Cousins^ I have not 
been able to find, in our histories, so much as a glimpse, to 
throw the slightest light upon the subject of her identity. 
She calls, in the 1 8th chapter, the Dukes of Anjou, Berry, 
and Bourgogne, Fair Uncles. If they were her uncles, 
then must she have been niece to the King. In which 
case, the Queen would hardly have addressed her, as Fair 
Cousin; unless, indeed, as a term of toying, or endear- 
ment. But allowing, a moment, she were of some other 
relation, let us see on whom our surmise then would 
light :— 

The King Jean had but four daughters ; so of one of 
them she must have been born — 

r. Jeanne, born the 24th June, 1343, was married to 
Charles, the wicked King of Navarre, towards the begin- 
ning of 135 1, and died in 1373. 

2. Marie, born in 1344, was married to the Duke de 
Bar, in 1364, and died in 1404. 

3. Marguerite, was bom in 1347; became a nun at 
Poissy, and died in 1366. 

4. Isabeau, born in 1348 ; was married toGaleas, Duke 
of Milan, in 1360 ; and died in 1372. 

It is clear, from this genealogy, that the heroine of this 
romance could only have been one of the daughters of 
Jeanne, Queen of Navarre ; who had two : — 

I. Marie, who married, in 1394, Alphonse of Arragon, 

d 



xviii Preface to the Paris Edition, 

the first of the name, Duke of Gandie, and who died 
without issue. 

2. Jeanne, married to Jean, the valiant Duke de 
Bretagne, in 1386 ; and who died in 1399. She married, 
afterwards, in 1404, Henry IV., King of England. 

If the adventures of the Little Saintre really took place 
under Charles VI., who came to the throne in 1380, one 
might imagine Marie, when widow of Alphonse of 
Arragon, to have been the Lady par amour, in as much as 
she was only married in 1394. But however this may be, 
as the whole affair must have been so recent, (that is, 
supposing it to have any foundation in fact,) I am of 
opinion that Antoine de la Salles acted very discreetly in 
merely identifying his heroine by the designation of The 
Lady of the Fair Cousins, The manner in which she 
forgot herself with the Abbot, and which appears from 
the 69th chapter to the end ; as well as the way in which 
Saintre avenged her infidelity, and divulged his resent- 
ment, all demanded that her name should be concealed 
from the times ; especially in an age when " true love " 
was so much the order of the day. 

All that remains for me now to inform the reader of, 
is, that I have not spared any pains to render the perusal 
of this romance as well instructive as entertaining. I 
have, as far as was in my power, (thanks also to the co- 
operation of one well skilled in our old literary lore,) 
given the meaning of all the more obsolete words ; which, 
otherwise, would have nonplused him. I have diversified 
it with occasional historical incidents and anecdotes, in 
themselves sufficiently curious. I have added all the 
Christian denominations of the chiefest of the French 
nobility, whose names are encountered, and, to conclude, 



Preface to the Paris Edition, . xix 

I have to hope, that the public will at least thank me 
for having presented it with this edition of a chronicle, 
which all persons of taste and judgment have so long and 
anxiously been looking for.- 



<^^fe^ 



THE 

HISTORY AND PLEASANT CHRONICLE 

OF 

LITTLE JEHAN DE SAINTRE, 

AND OF THE LADY OF THE FAIR COUSINS ; 
Without being any otherwise named. 



CHAPTER L 

How Jehan de Saintre came to he in attendance at the Court of King 
John of France, as page of honour ; he in particular waiting on 
the King. — And first, of my said Lady of the Fair Cousins, and 
of Saintre. 

IN the time of King Jolin of France, the eldest son of 
Philip de Valois, there was at his Court a certain 
Lord de Pouilly, in Touraine, who had living with him, in 
his hotel, an exceedingly comely and graceful lad, named 
Jehan, and eldest son to the Lord de Saintre, also of 
Touraine. And this Saintre, such was his witchery, came 
to be so pleasing to the king, that he determined to have 
him near him, child as he was. So he appointed him to 
be his page, making him always to be with him when he rode 
abroad, and at other times to wait about the Court, as 
might the other young people and pages of honour. But 
of all the pages, there was none stood higher with him 
than Jehan de Saintre, or who attended on the kino^ more 



The History and pleasant Chronicle 



frequently at table ; or who showed himself more handy, 
or ready to oblige, in anytliing that might be required of 
him, whether it were business or sport ; nor was there any 
who made himself more useful to the ladies, that is, as far 
as he was able. For the rest, for his years, which were 
XIII., he was an uncommon hardy and forward lad ;*^^^ 
whether it was to ride upon the high horse, to play at 
tennis, to sing, to dance, to run, to vault, to leap ; nor 
was there any sort of pastime, in which he saw his seniors 
to delight, to which he did not naturally take. And 
although, of his person, he was little and frail, his heart 
was great, and, among its other virtues, firm as the whin 
and the steel. By all which rare conjunctions, virtues, 
graces, accomplishments, he arrived to be so loved and ex- 
tolled, as well of the King, the Queen, the Lords, the 
Ladies ; in fact, everybody ; that all were of accord, that 
assuredly, some day, if he lived, he would come to be one 
of the most renowned gentlemen of France. And certes, 
as they foretold, so it fell out ; for, of all her knights, he 
was admitted to be the flower, and it is of a portion of his 
exploits that the following history is to treat. 



CHAPTER IT. 

How in the Court of the Queen of France, there was a young Lad}^, 
who on no account would remarry, notwithstanding she was 
pressed by many ; and of the instances which she replied touching 
the Ladies of the olden times. 

The Author. 

ABOUT this time, there was in the Court of the Queen 
Bonne of Bohemia, wife to the said King John, a 
lady, sufficiently young, a widow, and who was come of 
the kindred of the Fair Cousins. But of her name and 
family, history has forborne to speak, and for the reasons 
which will afterwards appear. This lady, then, from the 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 



death of her late lord, her husband, whether it was from 
causes which are not sufficiently explained, or that it was 
in imitation of those widows indeed," of which the Roman 
Gestes, that are so famous, make so many and such 
glorious mentions — but which, to be brief, I pass — once 
come to be a widow, on no account would allow any man 
to address her. Apparently it was her determination to 
follow, in all things, the examples of those widows of the 
olden time, and of which her histories spoke. For from 
them she learned that there was practised among the 
Romans, a highly commendable custom of honouring and 
countenancing widows ; that is, those who, upon the 
deaths of their first husbands, refrained from any farther, 
and who, out of the sincere and devout regard entertained 
for their memory, were content to preserve a pure and 
unspotted chastity. And as much the apostle tells us, in 
his first epistle Ad Timotheum, and in the second chapter, 
— to honour widows. For those are not real widows who 
are only so because they can find no one to have them, or 
yet who remain so, simply tliat they may the more easily 
carry on their wicked ways, or for their advantage, or for 
any other account than out of a love to Grod, or to their 
first husbands ; as are those others who will not accept 
of any, whether for better or worse, as says Virgil in the 
fourth book of his Eneas ; which Eneas so loved Dido, 
that he died of it. But to love again, would Dido take 
no heed ; for, as she had loved him living, so did she, 
dead ; nor could she forget him. And to Anna, her sister, 
when she would urge her to remarry, she would only 
give her, for an answer, thus, 

Ille melos primus qui me sibi junxit amoves, 
Abstulit, Ille habeat secum, servetque sepulchro. 

Of which the meaning is: ^'He who first w-as joined to 
me, having now left me, has carried all my affections 



The History and pleasant Chronicle 



with him. I will that they be always his ; with his ashes 
let them lie." And like as the Eomans honoured with 
crowns, those that accomplished feats of arms ; for in- 
stance, as he who, the first, would break into the camp 
of an enemy, was crowned with a wreath of laurel ; 
and as he who would soonest mount upon a ladder or 
scale the walls of a city or tower, was rewarded with a 
mural crown, and so, proportionally, for other achieve- 
ments ; likewise did they solemnly crown those women, 
widows, wj.10, out of love and honour to their first hus- 
bands, steadily persisted to refrain themselves from mar- 
riage ; determining resolutely to guard their chastity. 
And through these crowns, they came to be more con- 
sidered than the other widows were. And on this head, 
Saint Jerome, writing to Juminien, puts before him the 
instances of many widows, who w^ould have nothing to 
say to second husbands ; as that of Marcia, the daughter 
of Cato, who never ceased to deplore her husband. For 
when her friends, thinking to comfort her, would say, 
" Alas, alas, when will all these lamentations be over ?^' 
she would tell them, '' But with my life !" And besides 
her, he speaks of another, named Lucia, who, neither day 
nor night, for one moment ceased to weep ; for ever re- 
calling the memory of her husband ; and whose father, 
to divert her, when alluding to another husband, could 
get no other answer from her, than, " Alas, sir, for God's 
sake, forbear !" And when her father told her, that it 
was wrong for so young a woman to remain a widow ; for 
all reply, she told him, " Sir, so fully did he possess and 
fill my heart, that even ever so little, never could I love 
another. And if, in my unhappy inexperience, it were 
my lot to fall upon one who were kind to me, never, for 
an instant, should this poor heart know peace, for fear of 
losing him ; and if on one that were unkind or cruel to me, 
soon should it bring me to my grave : and so, sir, for 



of little Jelian de SaintrL 



these reasons, I shall remain as I am." And many other 
beautiful and touching instances are alleged by the same 
blessed Saint Jerome, but which I omit, as any one may 
find them there who pleases. Among other matrimonial 
ensamples, he notices one, that in effect, is risible enough ; 
which is to be found in the HIT. XX. XVI. of his epistles. 
It is of a woman of Eome, who was not, however, exactly 
of the sort of widows we are speaking of, for she had had 
XXII. husbands. And it so happened, that the people of 
the town, coming to hear how there was a man alive 
who had had XX. wives; they so managed that they; 
were brought together. And it was amid all sorts of 
merriment, feasting and pleasantry, that the marriage was 
consummated ; the whole town of Eome remaining on the 
tiptoe of expectation, to see on which side the victory 
would be declared. And as fortune would have it, it 
was the woman who succumbed. And as soon as it got 
to be publicly known, all the gallants came together, and 
placing in his hand a branch of laurel, in token of the 
victory that he had attained over her who had discomfited 
XXII. husbands, and on his head a chaplet of green leaves ; 
in this state they conducted him through the town, to the 
clamour of trumpets and of horns ; crying before him, as 
they went, " Long live Paulo ; the over thrower of the 
overthrower of xxii. husbands !" And with this we will 
make an end of his examples, and return to our history 
of Madame and of little Saintre. 




6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER III. 

How the said young Lady deliberated in her own mind, how she 
would cause the little Saintre to be heard of in the world ; and 
of how she sent for him to her chamber, asking him, " Who 
was his lady love ?" (dame par amours) ; and at which the 
little Saintre was quite put out, and could not answer her a 
word ; except that at last he said, " he had none." 

The Author. 

THIS young lady, however, as has been already said, 
having resolved, from whatsoever consideration or 
considerations it might be, never again to marry ; for all 
that, had many imaginations in her head ; and, among the 
rest, it had oftentimes occurred to her, that she could not 
do a better thing than to make the fortune of some young 
gentleman, or squire. And with this conclusion, at length, 
all her speculations ended. And accordingly, for some 
little time, she kept her eyes abroad, among the more 
conditioned young gentlemen of the Court, to see which 
were the most Hkely to prove an eventual credit to her 
choice. And at last she pitched on the little Saintre. 
And so it was, as well to satisfy herself as to his likeli- 
hood, as for her own entertainment, that she would 
openly start him, and talk to him, on all sorts of subjects ; 
and from all which it arrived, that, the more she saw 
of him, the more she liked him. But it was on other 
matters than love that their talk was; for, as yet, she 
neither would, nor even dared farther to discover herself. 

^^^ At length, it came one day, after Madame had been 
amusing herself with him, as indeed was warranted of 
her position, and conventionality permitted, that she re- 
tired to put the Queen to bed. And on returning, in 
passing through the gallery, her squires, ladies, and gentle- 
men about her, there she saw the little Saintre, who was 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 



looking from a window, at his companions, who were play- 
ing at tennis in the court below ; and who, as soon as 
he saw the train of Madame, incontinent fell upon his 
knees, making his obeisance ; which, when Madame saw, 
she was delighted^ and stopping before him, said to him, 
'' Saintre, what is it you are doing here ? Becomes it a 
squire, in sucli a wise as this, to see his lady pass ? On 
your feet, young master, and fall in with the rest." On 
hearing this, the poor little Saintre, his face like a furnace, 
and all out of countenance, got up upon his legs. And 
as soon as Madame saw him to be before her, she and her 
ladies, all tittering, continued as they were going ; Madame 
saying to them, "Just wait a moment, till we get by our- 
selves, and you will see some rare sport!" Then said 
Madame Jehanne, " And of what, Madame ?" 

" Of what r said Madame ; "' you shall presently see 
the famous battle there will be between the little Saintre 
and me." 

" Alas, Madame," said Mistress Katherine, " and what 
has he done ? he is such a good lad ;" and whiles she was 
yet speaking, they had come to the door. Then said 
Madame to her people, '' You may leave us, all you men." 
On this^ they were all retiring ; and, among the rest, the 
little Saintre fell on his knees, to make his reverence. But 
when Madame saw him thus about to retire, she said to 
him, '' You are to remain where you are. Young 
master, I have accounts to settle with you." And as 
soon as the door was shut, and she had seated herself on 
the foot of the little bed, she called him to her, bidding 
him to come and place himself between her and her 
ladies ; enjoining him, on his oath, to tell her the truth of 
whatsoever matters she should ask him. The poor child, 
who could not so much as conceive to what it was that 
Madame was driving, gave her his word, all the while 
bemoaning himself, " Alas, and what have I done ; what 



8 The History and pleasant Ohronicle 

is to become of me ?" And presently, seeing Mm in all 
this agony, Madame, smiling the while upon her ladies, 
begins, " Now, master, look at me, and on the troth of 
that faith you pledged me, tell me, how long is it since last 
you saw your lady love ?" (dame par amours,) And no 
sooner did he hear speak of lady loves ; as one who 
never before had heard of such a mystery, than the tears 
came rushing to his eyes ; his face so pale, and heart so 
sick, that never a word could he find to reply. Seeing 
this, Madame began to say, " How now, master, what is the 
meaning of this ;" and the other ladies who were with 
her, "Ah, Saintre, good friend, why do you not tell 
Madame how long it is since last you saw your lady par 
amours ? It is no such great a matter, that you must be 
making all this secret of it : besides, you have passed 
her your Avord." And so miserably did they badger him, 
that at length he said, " I have none." 

" Have none !" said Madame ; '^ heh, who then is to be 
the happy fair one, when you do have one ? It may be, 
that you have none ; but her whom you like most, and 
best could wish to have for your lady ; how long is it 
since you saw her last ?" The little Saintre, who, as yet, 
as has been said, had neither heard of nor experienced the 
gentle intimations of the god of love, still remained silent ; 
fumbling, all sheepish, with his fingers in his belt. And 
when Madame saw that he had not a word to say for 
himself, she said, " Ha, fine sir, what sort of behaviour 
is this ? Is it that you refuse to answer me ? Am I 
hurting you, that I simply ask you, when last you saw 
her whom you most desire to be yours ?" On this, Mis- 
tress Jehanne, Mistress Katherine, Isabelle, and the rest, 
who all the time had been laughing, began to be sorry 
for him. So they said to Madame, '^ Madame, you see 
clearly that he has not come prepared to satisfy you on 
a such a head ; allow him time to collect himself. And 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 



if you will but be good enough to forgive him this once, 
he will let you know to-morrow." 

Said Madame, ''I will have it from him, or ever he 
leaves the room." Then they all commenced with one 
accord, to say ; the one, " my son ;" the other, " my friend ;" 
the third, " dear little Saintre, now do tell Madame when 
it was you last saAv your lady, or otherwise you are her 
prisoner." Finding himself thus hotly pressed, and now 
half desperate, he sharply asked them, " What is it you are 
wanting me to tell, when I tell you that I have none. If 
I had, I would tell you willingly." 

" Without another word," said they, ^' tell us then who 
you love best ?" 

" Who I love best !" said he, " I love my mother best, 
and after her, my sister, Jacqueline." 

Then, said Madame, *' What is this. Sir Stripling, are 
you out of your wits ? it is not of mothers, or of sisters, 
that it is now question. Love of one's parents, kindred, 
is quite another thing from love par amours. I am 
asking you, of those who are nothing to you." 

'' Then of those, on my faith," said he, "I do not care 
for one." 

''And you do not care for one," said Madame, ''don't 
you ? Ha, caitiff knight, so you care for none ! Poor 
chicken heart, well see I, by this, never will you come to 
any good. To what are we indebted for the valorous 
achievements, the imperishable memories, and the ever- 
glorious^ feats of a Launcelot, a Gauvain, a Tristan; of 
Biron, the courteous; and of the other heroes of the 
Eound Table ; also of Ponthus, with so many countless other 
valiant squires and knights of this kingdom, whom, had 
I time, I could easily name ; if all was not the price, 
the wages, of their love, and that they might be con- 
firmed in the graces of their ever-to-be-adored mistresses ? 
And I know of more than one, who, through having been 



lo The History and pleasant Chronicle 

true lovers, and loyally acquitted themselves to their ladies, 
came to be had in the highest consideration, and who will 
never cease to be heard of as long as they live. And 
if it had not been that they were lovers, they would 
no more have been thought of than the veriest gaukey 
going. And yet, sir, you say, that you neither have a 
lady, nor want to have one ! By your own confession, 
you are a pitiful fellow, so you may be oflF, for I will have 
nothing more to say to you." And though Madame re- 
peated all this sternly, for all that, her ladies knew well 
by her smiling, that, however much it had an air of earnest, 
it was only said in jest. And when the poor little Saintre 
thus heard his cruel sentence, at the hand of Madame, he 
began to cry most piteously, thinking himself to be for 
ever dishonoured, and undone. Then began Mistress 
Jehanne, Mistress Katherine, Mistress Isabelle, and all the 
other gentlewomen, to be really sorry for him. So smiling 
as they came, they all fell on their knees before Madame, 
praying that, for this once, he might be pardoned, and 
pledging themselves for him, that ere two days were over, 
he should have made his election, and be prepared to name 
his lady. 

"Hush a bit," said Madame; "you are simpletons to 
suppose he has half the pluck in him." 

"But he will, Madame," said they; "will you not, 
Sir t 

"You are dreaming," said Madame; "are you capable, 
sir, of what they say ?" On this, the poor little abject, 
plucking up heart, said, " Yes, Madame, since such is 
your pleasure." 

''And you will promise it to me?" 

" Yes, Madame, on my honour." 

" We shall see," said Madame ; '' now you may go ; 
and mind you so manage matters, that, to-morrow, you 
are forthcoming in the gallery, about the same time I 



oj little Jehan de Saintre. 1 1 

found you to-day, so that I may find you ; or otherwise, 
make up your mind that you are to see your mother." 
On this, the poor unfortunate, on his knees, was given 
his conge; all Madame's ladies reminding him, ''Now 
mind, Saintre, you are as good as your word: now re- 
member, we are pledges for you." And no sooner did 
he discover himself to be out of their reach, than he set 
too to scamper, as if fifty wolves had been at his heels ; 
whilst Madame and her ladies, who should by rights 
have taken their sleep, never ceased for a moment to 
laugh, and make themselves merry with the fright they 
had given Saintre : so that it was vespers before they 
knew what they were about, and they had to rise without 
having ever closed an eye. And when Saintre had got to 
the other children, his playfellows, Grod knows how he 
regaled them all with an account of his adventures. How- 
ever, such was the contentment came over him to find 
himself once again at tiberty, that, by little and little, all 
his fine promises got out of his head ; excepting only when 
he stumbled on Madame, or her ladies, when he would 
make off as fast as his legs could carry him, which made 
them nearly kill themselves with laughter. At last, at 
dinner time, one day, the two ladies, seeing him here 
and there, and everywhere, waiting on all the ladies and 
gentlewomen, as heretofore, saving only themselves, bidding 
him come to them, said, ''Ha, Saiiitre, fair sir, by what 
unlucky mishap have we come to fall into your ill graces ? 
You -used to attend on us as on the rest ; but now, you 
run away at the very sight of us !" 

''Ladies," said he, colouring all over, and making off as 
he said it, " with your permission " 

Madame, who was at the lower end of the table, where 
the King and Queen were at dinner, happening to see the 
little Saintre, and also the two ladies, how they were, 
amused ; as soon as the boards were removed, asked them, 



12 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

" What it was the little Saintre had said to them which 
seemed so to have tickled them ?" 

Then they told her how he helped all the other ladies, 
but would not come near them. 

'' Just leave him to me," said Madame, ^' I'll quickly 
bring him to his senses." 

So, as soon as the wine and desert were handed round, 
Madame, who saw the little Saintre with a cup in his 
hand, called him to her, and said, " Saintre, go to the 
gallery and wait for me there ; I want to send you on 
a commission into the town. I know you would like to 
oblige me, and will be my friend." 

The little Saintre, hearing Madame address him thus 
softly, feeling as if a weight was taken oiF his shoulders, 
and thinking, surely IMadame has forgotten all about the 
promise, said at once, " Most willingly, Madame." 

By this, the King and Queen hac^ both withdrawn, and 
the little Saintre had gone to the gallery. And as soon as 
the King had lain down, as Madame was returning to her 
chamber, she found the little Saintre in attendance, as 
she had desired. So she said to him, '' Fall in with the 
rest." And as soon as she had gotten to her chamber, and 
had seated herself on the foot of the little bed, she told 
the squires, with the rest, "that they might retire." 
Then calling the little Saintre to her, she thundered out, 
^' And so, sir, do I sle before me the man who, in two 
days, was to have fulfilled his oath, and now for four has 
been eluding me! What vengeance, what punishment 
were too terrible for the man who is at once a traitor and 
a perjurer ?" 

On hearing this cruel and this dreadful charge, the little 
Saintre gave himself up at once for dead ; so, falling on 
his knees, and with clasped hands, he cried, — "Mercy, 
Madame, mercy, mercy !" protesting that he really had not 
had a moment to himself to think of what he had promised. 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 13 

Madame, who, over his shoulder, saw all her ladies in 
fits, was, all this time, at her wits' end to keep her counte- 
nance. However, she managed to say with tolerable 
firmness, '' Well, sir, admitted it be as you allege, in 
these four days have you made your election ?" 

To have again this horrible question put to him, he had 
as leave been dead as alive ; so with his eyes all full of 
tears, and a face as pale as death, he began to plead for 
time, as if he had forgotten all about it, or could think 
of no other way of getting out of it. 

Then Madame, delighted to see him in such a strait, 
turning to, and all the while smiling on her ladies, said 
to them, " What are we to do with a faithless squire like 
this ; who, two times, has passed his word to a lady, as 
well you know, and in so light an affair has broken it ; 
what punishment does he not merit ? And you, Madame 
Jehanne, I ask the first." 

And when the poor young gentleman heard himself 
thus attacked by Madame, he thought that surely this 
time, at any rate, he was lost, and for ever midone. So, 
with joined hands, being still on his knees, he cried 
out to Madame, "Mercy! mercy!" and then turning 
to the other ladies, implored them to intercede for 
him. 

Madame, all this time, however well pleased ; and who, 
the more she saw of him, thus simple and innocent, the 
more she liked him : and though imagining, that could 
she but once by fair means Avin him over to her, she 
should easily mould him to her wish, nevertheless was de- 
termined that Madame Jehanne and the rest, should give 
her their decision. 

Then Madame Jehanne, beginning to be really sorry for 
him, nor perceiving any more than the others the inward drift 
of Madame, said to her, '' j\Iadame, you must allow, if he 
has failed in his word, he has at least given you lor his 



14 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

excuse the multiplicity of liis affairs ; and you now see, 
how, on his knees, and' with how much humility, he 
craves your pardon for his offence, as do we all." 

" And you, Madame Katherine, what have you to say ?" 

" Alas, Madame, I do not well know what to say, ex- 
cept that he regrets what he has done ; and that you see 
he is really and heartily sorry for it ; and so I must inter- 
cede for him." * 

'^And you, Isabelle, you are the eldest; what have 
you to say ?" 

'' Alas, Madame, I do not well know what to say ex- 
cept that he regrets what he has done ; and that you see 
he is really and heartily sorry for it ; and so I must inter- 
cede for him; and, besides, you hear the poor prisoner 
has of himself confessed, that he had not, as yet, settled 
on any lady, to be her servant ; and I do think, he is to 
be believed. Besides, Madame, it is easy to understand 
of a lover so inexperienced as he is, and one determining 
religiously to devote himself to the service of his lady, 
how it is no easy matter to select a hidiY par amour. By 
my faith, Madame, methinks love is a matter of which he 
knows precious little, and has never heard mention. Is 
it not so, my child ?" 

" By my faith, good mother, yes," said Saintre, " I 
never spoke to any such person, nor saw one." 

'' Now, see there, Madame ; your poor supplicant never 
saw nor heard tell of lovers ; how then, in goodness' name, 
could he choose his lady ? And if even those who are the 
most initiated in these mysteries, have many a sorry 
cogitation ere they will expose themselves to the risk of a 
refusal; much more might he. And, for all these con- 
siderations, I do think, Madame, that this time he should 
be forgiven." 

" And what say you, Margaret, and the rest of you ? 
I want to hear what the whole of you have to say." 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 15 

But they all, with one voice, gave it for the opinion of 
Isabelie, as being the eldest among them, and the one who 
had had the most experience of the world. 



CHAPTER lY. 

How the Little Saintre, as in desperation, and one who had never yet 
experienced the sweets of love, told the Lady, that Matheline de 
Coucy was his lady love ; which Mathehne was but six years 
of age. 

'' \TOW," said Madame, '^I have heard all your opinions 
-LN about this shameful breach of faith, and it seems 
you are all for forgiveness ; so, for all your sakes, for this 
once, he is pardoned. But, one thing, mark you well : 
he has not done as he ought, seeing he was to have made 
choice of his lady, and he has not done it." 

'' Ha, Madame, but yes, " cried they all, laughing. 

" But no," said Madame. 

Then said they, " Think you, Madame, he would have 
taken all these four days, had it not been that he was de- 
termined, without fail, to fix on some one ?" 

" But no," said Madame." 

" But yes," said they ; " we will answer for him." 

Then they asked him, '^ Is it not so, my lad ?'^ 

On this the poor little wretch, half frightened out of his 
wits ; all taken at unawares, was constrained to say, *^ Yes." 

Then, said Madame to him, ''Now are you really the 
man I took you for ?" 

Seeing that there was nothing now for it but that 
some one was to be named, his tears began to flow afresh ; 
his colour to come and to go, as one who was at his wit's 
end what way to escape. 

Then said Madame to her women, '' Ha, is it not as I 
told you ? All he wanted was to get himself out of his 
scrape." 



1 6 The History ayid pleasant Chronicle 

Then said they all, " Alas, now, Saintre, do tell it 
certainly to Madame; and yon, Madame, take him on 
one side, and certainly he will tell you all. No loyal 
lover can ever be expected to publish, in this way, the 
name of the lady of his choice." 

Then said Madame, '^ Leave us by ourselves." 

And when they had drawn on one side, she said, 
^^ Saintre, good friend, there is no one now here but you 
and me ; so tell me faithfully." 

And when the little Saintre saw that there was no way 
of getting out of it, he said, " Alas, Madame, let me be 
forgiven, since you are determined that I must confess. 
And as he was turning over in his head Avhom he should 
mention, as nature might prompt him, and will ever, 
sympathetic, draw kindred unto kindred, it came into his 
head that he would name a little girl, who was about 
the Court, and which girl might be some six years of age. 
So he said, " Madame, it is Matheline de Coucy." 

And when Madame heard mention of Matheline de 
Coucy, she perceived that it was only some childish and 
foolish attachment. Nevertheless, she thought not proper 
yet to relax her severity ; so she said, '' Now see I 
clearly that you are- nothing better than a poor craven- 
hearted squire. I do not, by this, mean to say that 
Matheline is not a good-looking girl enough, nor yet 
come of a good house ; for, indeed, she is of a better than 
you should pretend to ; but what good, what profit, what 
honour, what assistance, what advantage, what comfort, what 
aid, what counsel, can she ever be of to you ? How is she 
to make your fortune, render you famous, or heard of in 
the world ? What means, furtherance, can you ever have 
from Matheline, who is but an infant ? Sir, you should 
choose some lady of an high and a noble blood ; one dis- 
creet, and who will have wherewithal to assist you, and to 
supply your necessities. And you should so dedicate your- 



of little Jehan de Saintre. ly 

self to her, and so undividedly love her, that, let you be 
called upon to undergo, or suffer what you might, she 
should still know that all was supported out of the pure 
and holy love you bore to her. And do not be taking it 
into your head, that there is any in the long run, be she 
whom she will, unless it be some more cruel fair one 
than any I ever yet heard of, who will not notice, pity, 
show grace and mercy to you ; or from whom you will not 
meet with a kind reception. And by this means you will 
become a somebody — a man of consideration. By any 
other course, I would not give one rush for you or your 
chances ; as sings the old master : — 

* (A short ballad is here omitted ; having no sort of value. — 
Translator.) 



CHAPTER y. 

How the Lady instructed the Little Saintre in sundry salutary 
doctrines and matters, touching the manner in which he was to 
be enabled to flee the seven deadly sins. 

NOW, upon this head, I must farther tell you ; that 
whoever would lay himself out to serve devoutly 
any such Lady, I say, he may be saved in body as in 
soul, and I will tell you how. As regards the soul, you 
are to know, that if he abstains from mortal sins, he is 
saved ; and as for the other, mere venial oneSj by a sincere 
confession they are wiped out, and are atoned for by some 
slight penance. 

And first, as regards the sin of Pride, that the party 
loving may acquire the much longed-for grace of his Lady, 
he will so master himself, as to be ever gentle, humble, 
courteous, affable ; so that nothing unhandsome can at 
any time be laid to his reproach. As much says Thales, 
the Milesian sage : — 

Si tibi copia, si sapientia fonnaque detur, 
Sola superbia destruit omnia, si committetur. 

C 



1 8 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

That is to say, my friend, '^Though you may have 
riches, as the sand; though you may have wisdom, 
though you may have rank, though you may have every 
bodily perfection ; let but all these be dashed with pride, 
and the whole is spoiled." And on this head, says So- 
crates : — 

Qnantumcumqne bonus fueris essendo superbus, 
Totum depravat te sola superbia dampnat. 

That is to say, my friend, ^' However good you may 

be, if you are proud, the whole is marred. Your pride 

alone damns you." 

And that your pride may be damped, you have but to 

remember that you have to die. Bethink you whence you 

came, and whither you will have to go. That will arrest 

you. And on this point, again, says Trimiges, the 

philosopher : — 

Ut non infleris memor esto quod morieris. 
Unde venis cerne, quo vadis, te quoque speme ; 

with so many other authorities, that too long would it be 
to rehearse them ; and so at present I leave them, to 
come to what I have to say, which is, that a true lover, 
such an one as I speak of, will follow them all, to pur- 
chase the ever-to-be-desired grace of his ever-beauteous 
Lady ; and for which he will banish this horrible and 
abominable sin of pride, and all that pertains to it, and 
will make to himself provision of this delightful virtue of 
humility. By this he will be absolved and freed from the 
sin of pride. 

The Lady. 

And as regards the second sin, which is Anger. Certes, 
no true lover ever was irascible. It is true, I have known 
many a sore trial to have been put upon them ; but then 
it was only to prove them. No lover ever gave way to 
anger, if not under the influence of some other passion 
besides love. And so, my friend, if this sin is offensive 



of little Jelian de Saintre, 19 

in the eyes of God, so is it also derogatory to the honour 
and the person of him who is overtaken with it. And for 
this reason, you must flee it with all your might, and 
follow the counsel of the philosopher, who says : — 

Tristitiam mentis caveas plus quam mala dentis. 
Seigniciem fugias nonquam piger ad bona fias. 

That is to say, my friend, '^ Fly melancholy as you would 
the toothache. Also, fly indolence, if you would banish 
care : and always be doing some good." And on this head, 
says Pittacus of Mitylene : — 

Effugias h'am, ne pestem det tibi diram 
Juris delira, nutrix est scbismatis ira. 

That is to say, my friend, " Flee rage and anger, so that 

they may not infect you with their cruel pestilence ; for 

they are the ways which lead astray, and the nurse of 

every discord and division." And on this point, says the 

gospel : — 

Xon odias aliquem sed eum potius tibi placas ; 
Quisquis odit fratrem censetur ab hoc bomicida. 

That is to say, my friend, " That you are to bear ill-will to 
none ; but to forgive all ; for whoever hates his neighbour, 
he is a murderer," as says the evangelist. And on this 
head, says Saint Augustine, in one of his epistles, '^ That 
even as sour wine will taint and corrupt the vessel in 
which it is placed, if it remain any time, so likewise will 
anger taint and corrupt the breast into which it enters." 
And with this conclusion agrees the apostle, who says : — 

Sol non occumbat super iracondiam vestram. 

That is to say, '^ Let not the sun go down upon your 
wrath." And farther, says Cato : — 

Impedit ira animum, ne possit cernere verum. 

That is to say, my friend, '^ That spite and anger dissipate 
and blind the understanding of a man, so that he cannot 



20 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

see the truth that is before him." And, from all this, 
my friend, you will gather, that the true lover, such as I 
speak of, always is, and will be joyous ; hoping by his 
faithful and acceptable service, to find all mercy at the 
hands of his much-to-be-desired Lady. And in this 
confidence, he sings, and dances, and makes merry, as 
Solomon tells him, in his last book, where he sums up all 
by saying, Bene vivere et letari ; that is to say, " Live 
well and joUily." But this good living which he speaks 
of, does not simply mean to eat good victuals, to drink 
good wine, to lie abed of a morning, or on downy mat- 
trasses ; in a word, to wallow in all delights ; but it means, 
to live, firstly, as in the eye of God ; then in this honour- 
able voluptuousness and tranquillity of mind. So, to this 
end, I say, that all true lovers, who aspire to acquire the 
ever-to-be-desired good opinion of their ever-lovely Ladies, 
must shun, as the pest, this pernicious sin of pride, loath- 
some alike to God and man ; and take up with this amiable 
and desirable virtue of patience ; by this means they will 
be freed from this disagreeable and envious sin of pride. 

The Lady. 

As for the third sin, it is Envy. This true lover, such 

an one as I speak of, never is envious of any one. For 

if such a laint once come to the knowledge of his Lady, 

infallibly he would lose her for ever ; for never could any 

Lady of honour love a man capable of jealousy ; except, 

indeed, to be jealous of well-doing ; as, at church, the most 

devout ; at table, the most hungry ; in the company of 

Ladies, the most courteous and engaging; in the field, 

the most terrible ; in justing, the most gallant. In all 

such matters, you are indeed to be jealous ; but in no 

others. And on this point, says Seneca : — 

Quid melius auro? jaspis. Quid jaspide, sensus. Quid sensu? 
ratio. Quid ratione ? modus. Omnibus adde modum, modus est 
pulcherrima virtus. 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 2 1 

That is to say, my friend and son, " What thing is better 

than gold ? jasper ; than jasper ? sense ; than sense ? 

understanding ; than understanding ? manner, for manner 

is the crown of every other virtue." And again, on this 

article, says the philosopher : — 

Filius ancillse morosus plus valet ille. 

That is to say, my friend, *' That the son of a charwoman, 

well brought up, is worth again the son of a King, ill 

bred and ill mannered." And again, while on this head, 

as a farther countenance to good manners, I will tell you 

a saying of Solon of Athens, which is as follows : — 

Per vinum miser, per talos, et mulieres. 
Hsec tria si sequeris, semper egenus eris. 

That is to say, " That by wine, by dice, haunting the 
company of lewd women, you will be always poor, miser- 
able, unfortunate, and shunned of all honest persons." 
And farther, on the sin of envy, says Plato : — 

Invidiam fugere studias, et amore carere. 
Que reddit sicum corpus faciens corinicum. 

That is, " Seek to shun envy, for envy mates not with 
love ; dries up the flesh, blighting and corrupting the 
heart." And from all this, my friend, fly all such vices, 
and all evil company, for love enjoins as much, as do all 
Ladies of honour to their lovers ; following the injunctions 
of the philosopher, who says : — 

Malo mori fame quam nomen perdere fame. 
That, good friend, is to say^ " Let me starve sooner than 
I will forfeit my fair renown," So, to conclude, my 
friend, remember well this saying which says, " I had 
rather starve than lose my good reputation ;" and again, 
this other, of the philosopher, the wise Chilon, of Lace- 
demon : — 

Nobilis es genere, debes nobilis magis esse. 
Nobilitas morum pluris est quam genitorum. 
Nobilitas generis mortem superare nequibit. 



22 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

That is to say, my friend, '' Though you be come of 
noble birth, seek farther to be ennobled of your virtues ; 
lor the nobility that comes of good breeding is of infi- 
nitely more account than that which comes of birth; 
nor can this latter, be it ever so famous, so notable, survive 
beyond the grave." So that, to be this perfect lover, 
which I wish you, you must eschew this miserable sin 
of envy, and array yourself with this right glorious virtue 
of charity, which is the daughter of God, and which he has 
so urgently recommended to us. Do so, and so will you 
be cleansed from, cleared, and quit of this sin. 

The Lady. 

And as for the fourth sin, which is Avarice. Assuredly 
avarice and true love cannot lodge, at once, in the one 
breast. And if the avaricious man, by any hazard, is 
amorous, it is not to be supposed but it is of some vile 
hag or other, and by which he will not be called upon 
to spend. But the true and loyal lover will aspire to be 
liberal, and honourably to serve his Lady ; and out of self- 
respect, will always keep himself well dressed, well mounted, 
and all his people as beseems his state. And if any 
attempt to do more, he will be but a fool for his pains, 
and will come to trouble. For lovers and Ladies of 
honour care for no such prodigals or spendthrifts. But 
they love those who carry themselves as is becoming; 
that is to say, who appear in arms, at tilts, at tourna- 
ments, and on all honourable occasions, as befits their 
rank, without any effort at idle display ; who give accord- 
ing to their means, and for the love of God, in the most 
necessitous directions ; as says the gospel : — 

Beat! misericordes : quoniam ipsi misericordiam consequentur. 
— Mathei, v. cap. 

That is to say, my friend, " Blessed are the merciful, for 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 23 

they shall obtain mercy." Something to the same point, 
says Periander of Corinth : — 

Et sis preclariis non sis cupidus nee avams. 

That is to say, my friend, " Once come to be considered, 
and you will have riches enough." Hence, be not either 
covetous or avaricious, for all such dispositions are hated 
of all, nor can be loved of any. And this is confirmed 
to you by what the philosopher tells us : — 

Furtum, rapina, fenus, fraudem, simoniam, causat avaritia, ludum, 
perjuria, bella, radix cunctorum sit nempe cupido malorum. 

That is to say, my friend, '^ that avarice is the root of 
larceny, of rapine, of usury, of fraud, of simony, of perjury, 
of brawls ; in a word, of every mischief." And Bias, 
of Prienne, allows as much : — 

Plus flet perdendo cupidus quam gaudet liabendo, 
Et magis est servus cum plus sibi crescit acervus. 

That is to say, my friend, "The covetous man under- 
goes a greater agony in losing than did he ever prove 
of joy in receiving, and the more he amasses, the more 
beggarly and cowardly he becomes." And, as Saint 
Augustin says, *' The bosom of a miser is no better than a 
hell ;" for never was hell so full, that it cried, Enough ; 
so is it with the avaricious, for if all the riches of the 
earth were his, never would he consider them to be suffi- 
cient. And on this head the Scripture says : — 

Insatiabilis occulus cupidi, in partes iniquitatis non saciabitur. — 
Ecclesidstici, viiii. cap. 

That is to say, my friend, " That the eye of the covetous 
is insatiable, and never will be glutted to its fill." And 
many other authorities are there, which are too long to 
give you, and hence, I pass. So, in order that the true 
lover, such an one as I am speaking of, may acquire the 
ever-to-be-desired grace of his ever-beauteous Lady, he 
must practise every virtue, and renounce this ugly sin 



24 The History and pleasant CTironicle 

of avarice, and betake himself to this delightful and 
winning virtue of generosity, at once loved of God, and 
honoured of the world: and bv means of which he is 
saved. 

The Lady. 
And as for this fifth sin, which is Idleness ; certainly, 
my friend, no true lover ever was idle ; for the ever 
gentle and passionate desire, which, day and night, pos- 
sesses him, to acquire the ever-to-be- desired grace of his 
ever-beauteous Lady, never would permit of it. For, 
whether to sing, to dance, above all the others he is the 
most indefatigable, the most ready to rise betimes, to say 
his prayers, to hear mass, to be ofi" to the chase, when 
the poor crippled, slugabeds of lovers are asleep ; this will 
ever be his way. Wherefore flee this sin, after the counsel 
of Epicurus, the philosopher, who says : — 

Otia, vina, dapes, caveas ne sint tibi labes ; 
Yix homo sit castus requiescens, et bene pastus. 

That is to say, my friend, '' Fly boozing, superfluity of 
wine, excess at table, so that you come not to be drowned 
in luxury ; for it is next to impossible for any indolent 
person, well filled, to contain themselves within the 
bounds of chastity." And, again, concerning this miser- 
able vice of indolence, says Saint Bernard : — 

Vidi stultos se excusantes sub fortima, vix autem diligentiam, cum 
infortuniis sociabis. 

That is to say, my friend, ^' Fools will ever lay their 
troubles to the door of fortune ; and whilst you will hardly 
ever see an industrious person unfortunate, as assuredly 
will you ever find idleness and misery packing hand in 
hand." And on this head. Saint Bernard adds : — 

Kevidere quae sua sunt, quomodo sunt, summa prudentia est. 

That is to say, my friend, *' That to see to one's aflfairs, 
how they are, and what they are, is prudence." And, 



of Huh Jehan de Saintre. 25 

you see, he does not simply say, ''look to your affairs," 
but " look twice," by which he would mean, that you 
cannot too often look. And as much adds Atheneus, the 
poet, where he says : — 

Ocia sunt juvenum menti plerisque venenum, 
Et juvenum corpora, viciorum maxima causa. 

That is to say, my friend, '' That idleness, for the most 
part, is a canker to the minds of the young ; for in young 
persons, almost all viciousness takes its rise in the flesh." 
And on this head, says Seneca : — 

Pigritiam linque quse dat mala tedia vite, 
Tedia virtutis fuge, nam sunt damna salutis. 

That is to say, my friend, '^ Have nothing to say to idleness, 
for it renders life tedious and insipid ; and fly everything 
that is opposite and irksome to virtuous and arduous 
achievement." And for this reason, my friend, seeing 
that all true lovers, such as I speak of, are, by their vir- 
tues, saved ; abandon, I beseech you, this miserable and 
discreditable vice of indolence, and give yourself up 
wholly to the thrice illustrious virtue of diligence, and 
so will you come to be accounted among them that do. 
And thus will you be, from this wretched vice of indo- 
lence, saved and free. 

The Lady. 

And as for the sixth sin, which is of the belly, or of 
Gluttony. Certainly the true lover has no business either 
with eating or drinking, further than to satisfy nature ; 
as says the philosopher, "that we should only eat and 
drink to live, not live to eat and drink, as the pigs do." 
And on this head, Tulles, the Milesian sage, says : — 

Pone gule frenum ne sumas inde venenum, 
Nam male digestus cibus extat s^pe molestus. 

That is to say, my friend, '^ Put a padlock on your mouth, 



26 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

so that this poison may not get into you ; for superfluity 

of food^ half digested, is, above all things, injurious to the 

system. Again, on this head, says the sage Solon, of 

Athens : — 

Ne confunderis, nimquam vino replearis. 
Yilis diceris, nisi vino te moderaris. 

That is to say, my friend, " See that you are at no time 
addicted to wine, so that you may never be brought to 
confusion ; for you will be looked on as scandalous, if you 
do not as well use wine moderately, as it you." And on 
this head of gluttony, says Saint Bernard, in his Morali- 
ties, '' that when once this vice comes to be master of a 
man, he forfeits all the good repute in which^ till then, he 
was held." And when the belly is not kept within 
bounds by a rigid enforcement of abstinence, all the other 
virtues are choked. And on this head, says Saint Pol : — 

Quorum finis interitus : quorum deus venter est, et gloria in con- 
fusione eorum, qui terrena sapiunt. — Ad Philip, tertio capitulo. 

That is to say, my friend, '' That those who savour of 
earthly things, their end is death. Those who make of 
their belly, their god ; their glory will be their shame, 
their confusion, whether in matters of love or of arms.'' 
So, I do beseech you, that you will not be of them ; but 
follow the counsel of the ancient ; to avoid all which, 
he says : — 

Sic semper comedas, ut surgas esuriendo. 
Sic etiam sumas moderate vina bibendo. 

That is to say, my friend, " Always partake in such a 
manner that, when you rise from table, you may be still 
hungry. Also, let your drink be moderate," for by so 
doing you will, in the course of nature, be longer spared ; 
besides, you will be had in the grace of God, of all true 
lovers ; and, above all, in that of your Lady. So, you are 
to abstain from this graceless and beastly sin of gluttony, 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 2y 

and take up with that benignest of virtues, abstinence, 
and the flower of every excellence. And, by this means, 
you will be, from this sin, freed and saved. And 1 will 
now have done to speak of this sovereign remedy, for all 
true and loyal lovers, touching this sixth mortal sin, which 
is gluttony. 

The Lady. 

And as to the seventh sin, which is Incontinence. 
Verily, my friend, in the breast of the true lover, this sin 
is even dead. For so terrible is his apprehension that it 
might cost him the loss of his Lady, or that she should 
resent it, that so much as a dishonest thought will not 
cross his mind. But he will, in all things, follow the 
counsel of Saint Augustan, Avho says : — 

Luxuriam fugito ne vili nomine fias. 
Carni ne credas, ne Christum nomine ledas. 

That is to say, my friend, '' Flee lust so that you may not 
be sullied with an infamous renown. Also, trust not too 
much the flesh, lest you come to offend Jesus Christ." 
And with this agrees Saint Peter, the Apostle, in his first 
epistle, where he says : — 

Obsecro vos, tanquam advenas et peregrinos, abstinere vos k 
carnalibus desideriis qui militant adversus animam. — Prima Ep., 
ii. cajj. 

That is to say, my friend, '' I beg of you, as strangers and 
as pilgrims, that you will abstain from fleshly delights, for, 
day and night, are they at warfare with the spirit." 
And on this head, further, says the philosopher : — 

Sex perdunt vere homines in mulierum ; animam, ingeniima, 
mores, vim, lumina, vocem. 

That is to say, my friend, " That the man who haunts the 
company of loose women, loses six things ; of which, the 
first is his soul ; the second, his wits ; the third, his man- 
ners ; the fourth, his strength ; the fifth, his eyes ; the 



28 The History- and pleasant Ohroniele 

sixth, his voice. And, for this cause, fly, my friend, this 
sin, and everything connected with it. Cassiodorus, on 
the Psalter, says, that it was wantonness which first 
brought the devil, from an angel, to be a devil ; induced 
death into the world, and robbed the first man of that 
blessedness which was prepared for him — that wantonness 
is the nurse of every evil, the well-spring of every vice ; 
that perverted path which estranges us from the grace of 
God. And on this head, says David in his Psalter, as he 
cries to God : — 

Odisti observantes vanitates supervacue. — Ps, xxx. 

That is to say, my friend, '^ Thou, my God, hatest, and 
hast ever hated those who follow vanities." And many 
other like injunctions have been left of the blessed doctors 
of the holy church ; and not only of them, but of the 
philosophers, poets, and other wise pagans, who had never 
even heard of the true knowledge, the most holy and sur- 
passing affection of the true God, the Holy Spirit ; and 
who had, one and all, this sin in such abhorrence, that, to 
rehearse you all, would be impossible. And so, excepting 
only one of Boethius, I will pass them over to come to 
other matters. This is what he says : — 

Luxuria est ardor in accessu, foetor in recessu, brevis delectatio, 
corporis et animse destructio. 

That is to say, my friend, '' That lust is fire at the begin- 
ning ; loathsome when done with ; a very nothing, for its 
duration ; perversion, as well of body as of soul." And 
inasmuch as this, my friend, is, of all sins so shameful a one, 
the true lover, such an one as I am speaking of, out of the 
dread that his Lady should be displeased, and to win her 
by every means in his power, will flee it. And if, by 
any chance, by some uncontrollable impulse of his nature 
{contrainte d' amours)^ he comes to be a forfeitor therein; 
such, and so great are the agonies and apprehensions to 



of little Jehan de SaintrS, 



which they are subjected, viewed all the terrible perils 
and mischief's that may come of it, and which the tortured 
breasts of loyal lovers are exposed to, that it will not be 
accounted unto them for a mortal sin. And if so be that 
sin there be, truly it is ainply atoned for of the aforesaid 
penalties, which, unhappily, they must undergo. So, 
from all this, I may safely say that the true lover, such 
an one as I speak of, of this sin, and of every other sin, is 
absolved, quit free, and saved. 



CHAPTEK YI. 

How the lady gives some further instructions to the little Saintre, 
touching the virtues, state, and order of nobility. 

The Lady. 

AND as to the salvation of the body, 1 have already 
said, that such a lover can be saved in body and 
in soul. After the preservation of the seven deadly sins, 
which regard the soul, of which you have already heard, I 
will now speak to you of the saving of the body, and 
that in different ways ; and first, in the matters of love, 
(Jaiet d' amours). 

The true and loyal lover is one who is a gentleman, 
sane and sound in body and in mind ; and who, day and 
night, dedicates himself to the unwearied service and 
grace of his ever-beauteous Lady ; and this, by the seven 
opposite applications to the seven mortal sins which I 
spoke of. And this lady must be, in point of honour, the 
nonpareille of her sex. I embrace all, for all are presumed 
to be ladies par amours ; even supposing that they may 
be in no way inclined to love either him, or anybody else. 
Again, right reason and nature ordain, that she should, 
above all other earthly things, esteem and interest herself 
in him, and in such a manner, that in his welfare, honour, 



30 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

and advancement, would be all her delight ; and, contrary, 
with all his misfortunes should be her sympathy. And 
let her be what lady she might, and he what gentleman ; 
if both such as I speak of; of her means, in his necessity, 
he never should be unprovided. And under any other 
course, she would be to be despised, contemptible, and 
would merit to be banished from the society of all right- 
minded persons ; and to be cast, body and soul, into the 
filthy and bottomless abyss, receptacle of ungracious souls. 
However, I never yet heard tell that any such have been. 
And by this means, the true lover, who is saved in body, 
is saved also in soul. 

The Lady. 
And as for the rest, touching, more particularly, the salva- 
tion of his person ; the true accomplished gentleman lover, 
who is neither designed nor suited to the study of the 
right prudent and holy sciences of theology, of the de- 
cretals, the laws, or other learned professions, but only to 
the most noble and illustrious science and occupation of 
arms, and whereby he may purchase to himself the grace 
of his ever-to-be- desired Lady, is he who is ever foremost, 
is outdone of none ; and, above all his fellows, causes 
himself to be heard of. When he is at mass, he is the 
most devout ; at table, the best conducted ; in the com- 
pany of lords and ladies, the most accomplished. With 
his ears, he will never so much as hear an indelicate word ; 
nor will he allow his eyes an indiscreet regard ; nor from 
his lips an unhandsome word to escape ; with his hands, 
he will never venture on squeezing or dishonest liberties ; 
nor, with his feet, wander into forbidden quarters. What 
need I add more ? In a word, no other will be equipped 
like him ; as for his armour, it will be of the best, and 
after the latest ordinance ; he will be well mounted, and 
have his caparisons of the richest ; and, for the love of his 
Lady, will ever be in the foremost of the fight, as well on 



of little Jehan de Samtre. 3 1 

horse as on foot. And although it may be said, that all 
these wagers are but vanities, and are forbidden by the 
Church, as is to be seen in the decretals, as I have heard ; 
and first, where it is said, — 

Et alibi non tentabis Dominum Deimi tiium. 

For one must know, God will be only for him who is in 
the right — 

Item Pr£edestiiiationes xxiv., qusestione iv. 

Wherein they say, neither law nor reason warrant these 
extremities. Besides, they allege that it is to tempt God ; 
for the clerks say, that to go through with anything 
unnatural is either monstrous, or tempting God. And 
again of Purgatory ; — 

, Yulgari per totum, in capitulo, consuluisti ii., qiieestione v. 

Item capitulo, prsedestinaciones xxx., qusestione iv. Et notabiliter 
in capitulo gloriosus de veneratione sanctorum, libro sexto. 

Item capitulo, ut nemo, in propria causa jus sibi dicat, per totum, 
capitulo de gladiatoribus tollendis, lib. vi. 

And other decrees, without number, forbidding all wagers 
of battle, and those combats that I speak of. But the 
emperors, kings, with the other princes of this world, con- 
formable to the rights and customs of their temporal re- 
galities, have authorized and commanded such combats, 
upon all such occasions as circumstances may have called 
for them. And, upon this head, there was a furious 
struggle between the Holy Father Pope Urban, the fifth 
of the name, and the good King John of France, touching 
a wager of battle which was between two knights ; the 
one French, the other English, at Ville ISTeuve, near 
Avignon. And although the Pope was determined to put 
in force the weight of his decrees, and had placards attached 
to all the church doors, forbidding any, under pain of 
excommunication, to be present at the same ; yet, for all 
that, the most Christian king, for the maintenance of his 



32 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

royal privileges, refused to put a stop to it, and resolved, 
as a temporal prince, to support the temporal laws ; wliich 
speak thus : — 

Et ejus, fP. Si quis homines eadem lege et jure, ff. Si quis 
ahum, ff. Lombarda qu£e incipit si quis, ff. Ultimo 1. Lombarda 
de consti, ff, 1. similiter, ff. Ultimo Lombarda de homicidio, 1. si 
quem inLomb arda de parriti,ff. Ultima in Lombarda de homicido, 1. 
Liber homo in Lombarda de fur 1. Si quis alium in Lombarda de 
adulterio. 1. 

And there are many other occasions, provocations, on which 
they are permitted by the laws, known as The Lombard ; 
where they may be found at length, and their dijQFerent 
natures. However, they are strictly forbidden now-a- 
days, by the statutes of the most Christian king, Philip, 
excepting in four instances only, not more. 

The first case is, that it be certain, evident, uncon- 
tested, that the mischief has been' really compassed ; and 
to this effect is the clause : — 

II apperra evidament hommicide, trahyson, ou autre vray sem- 
blable malefice par evidente soupeceon. 

The second case is ; that the occasion be such, that 
natural death would come of it. The third, that none can 
be punished, except by wager, in all cases of murder, or 
when charged of treason : in both which instances, he who 
is impugned must defend himself at the risk of his person. 
The fourth is, that he who is challenged be defamed of 
the fact, circumstantially, or by presumption tantamount 
to conviction. And this is what is said on the head of 
evidence. But notwithstanding that these wagers of 
battle be thus prohibited, and these disputes, reserved for 
the decision of the church, which, by its decretals, has 
pronounced a contrary course to .be wickedness, tempting 
God, and vanities ; returning to my point, the true lover 
is in no way guilty of any of these sins, as he is only 
actuated for the increase of his honour, without any sort 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 33 

of quarrel, or to the prejudice of any. And I will answer 
for him, that even in the thickest, he does not so much 
wish any sort of overthrow or dishonour to his antagonist, 
as reputation to himself. And in testimony of this, he 
should call God to his vindication, and to be his witness. 
And that God may be the better disposed to hear him, 
he should go absolved and repentant, on account of all the 
perils that may ensue. Of the oaths which they take, and 
the ceremonies that they go through, to be short, I shall 
say nothing at present. But when the true lover leaves 
his tent, all armed, as he should be — equipped with his 
shield, and all the armour which pertains to knighthood — 
he first makes the major sign of the Cross, then he lowers 
his pennon, then they hand him his lance or his sword, 
which he takes in his right hand, wherewith to defend 
himself, or assault, as best he may. After that, he is 
seated on a stool, or else waits, erect, till such time as he 
is called upon by the judge, or umpire of the field. Then 
this true and loyal lover arises, and puts himself in motion, 
sternly, and proudly, as though he would eat his adversary 
up ; and he will, above all, have a care that his first blows 
are directed coolly and cautiously. As much advances 
Valerius Maximus, in his fifth book, when he says, ''that 
it is insufferable for a general or a soldier to have to say, I 
never thought this would have happened !" For as there 
is nothing in this world which can ever be a second time 
done ; so, especially, in all matters that are to be decided 
of the sword, and are, of all others, the most perilous, it 
behoves those who are committed to them, to carry them- 
selves with an infinite wariness and apprehension. And 
conformable to this is what Vegece says, in his first book on 
the Secret of Chivalry — that errors in most matters are to 
be retrieved, saving only such as fall out upon the field of 
battle ; to these no remedy can be applied, for, incontinent, 
the penalty ensues upon the forfeit. And for this reason, 

D 



34 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

my friend, the wise, true, and devoted lover is loyal, and 
should be, in all his ways and deeds, cautious, wary, and 
advised. • And it is commonly they, albeit they may 
neither be so rudely built, nor so terrible in the fight, or 
to slay, as many another, who expose themselves to the 
crudest assaults ; conformable to the words of the sage, 
of whom I spoke to you before : — 

Malo mori fame, quam nomen perdere fame. 

That is to say, my friend, ^' Eather let me starve of hunger 
than lose my fair renown." And in addition to this, the 
perfect lover follows, every day, toward all those who 
have done him any kindness, or are disposed to do it, 
whether as to counsel, reprehension, or regard, the incul- 
cation of Aristotle, who says : — 

Diis parentibus et doctoribiis non possimus reddere equivalens. 

That is to say, my friend ; " that to the gods," for which 
you will understand, God ; " our fathers, mothers, as well 
as others of our kindred and instructors, we can never 
return a sufficient recompense for all that they have 
done for us." 



CHAPTER VIL 

How the Lady detennined to come at the favourable or unfavourable 
impression left upon the little Saintre, in the matter of love 
par amour. 

The Lady again. 

" AJOW, my friend, I have put before you, and showed 
1.1 you many things, which, I pray God, all, or most 
part, you have attended to and understood. What say 
you? Do you feel as if it was in you; that, with time, 
you would ever come to be capable of all this ? Tell me, 
wdiat do you think of it?" 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 35 

The Authok. 

And when Madame had thus finished her sermon, 
Saintre, like a child as he was, and all bewildered with all 
these fine doctrines, had not a word to say. Then said 
she to him, "Fair Sir, what think you; have you the 
heart to attempt all this?" On this, the poor little fellow, 
raising his eyes to her, and with a low voice, replied, 
'' Yes, Madame, willingly." 

" You w^ill, my friend !" 

^' Madame, yes ; wdth all my heart. But who is the 
Lady, such as you speak of, who would accept of my ser- 
vices, or care, Madame, for me ?" 

" And why not?" said Madame, " Are you not a hand- 
some young fellow ? Have you not eyes to see ; ears to 
hear ; lips, tongue, to speak ; hands and arms to make use 
of; feet and legs to walk ; a body and a heart to carry you 
through, and loyally to dedicate to all that she may enjoin 
of you?" 

"Madam, I have !" 

"And why then do you not come out of your shell? 
However much you may be worth, do you really fancy 
that any Lady is to be so far unmindful of her honour as 
to take upon herself to court you ? No. But when they 
are compelled, as it were, of an invincible inclination 
toward those they love, to allow it to escape them ; then, 
by that means is the true lover shown in what manner 
he may proceed. So why do you not make a push? 
Besides, however high or worthy may be the Lady, in 
proportion as you make her condescension gracious, so 
proportionately will she be indebted to you." 

Saintre. 

" Madame, I had as leave die as once offer myself and 
be refused, only to be laughed at and twitted for my 
pains. And, for this reason, Madame, I had better remain 



36 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

as I am." And when Madame heard this, and all his 
way of reasoning, and how he was unable to catch, her 
drift, she could no longer stifle what was "upon her breast, 
so she said to him : — 



CHAPTEK YIII. 

How the Lady opened her heart to the little Saintre, showing him 
that it was she who was willing to love him. 

The Lady. 
'' IVfOW, listen to me as a good Christian, and as a 
-L 1 gentleman, which you are ; will you swear to me ; 
by God, on your faith as a Christian ; and on your honour 
as a gentleman ; none now being present, or who can hear, 
save you and I ; that, of all the things which I am saying 
to you, or that I may have occasion hereafter to say to 
you, or may already have said to you ; to no manner of 
soul, that can either live or die, will you in any sort reveal 
them. Will you put your hands in mine, and swear to me 
this?" 

*' Yes, Madame," said he, "on my honour." 

The Lady. 
Then said Madame to him, " Now, Saintre, supposing 
it were I, would you like, for my sake, to serve me loyally, 
play a noble part, and come to great honour? Would 
you obey me?" 

The Author. 

To this, the little Saintre, who had never yet turned in 
his head what it was to be the servant of a Lady, par 
amours, knew not well what to reply ; so, falling on his knees, 
he said, " Madame, I will do whatever you require of me." 

" And then, with your hands in mine, you will promise 
me this ?" 

"Yes, by my faith, and my loyalty. Madame, as I 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 37 

promise you, I will perform, and will do whatever you may 
desire." 

" Now, you may rise, and listen well to what I am about 
to say to you, and remember it." 



CHAPTER IX. 

How the Lady admonislied the young Saintre touching the ten com- 
mandments of the law, and in what consisted the virtues and 
good breeding. 

The Lady. 

FIEST of all, I will and require that, above everything, 
you love God with your whole heart, according to 
the commandments of Holy Church ; the best that you can, 
or are able. Farther, I will and command you, that, next 
to God, you love and obey the blessed Virgin Mary; 
above all other considerations, the most that is in your 
power. Also, I will and command, that you love and com- 
mend yourself to the ever-blessed and true Cross, on which 
our Saviour, Jesus Christ, died and was impassioned ; and 
which is our true talisman and defence, as well against 
our enemies as evil spirits. Also, I will and command 
that, every day, you observe your pater-noster ^ or some 
other form of prayer, and that you recommend yourself 
to your good angel, into whose keeping God has com- 
mitted the safety and the charge as well of your body as 
your soul ; that he will direct you, keep you, and defend 
you, when he may not be by you ; and that he will be 
with you, in life as in death, I also will and command 
you, that you will ever have St. Michael, St, Gabriel, or 
some other angel, saint, or saintress of Paradise present 
in your memory, so that they may be, toward our Lord 
and our Lady, your advocates, ambassadors, and inter- 
cessors ; as are those who are mostly to be found in the 
courts of kings and of great princes, towards such as 



38 The History and "pleasant Chronicle 

cannot, of tliemselves, see, speak with, or find access to 
them. Also, I will and command, that, for the ten com- 
mandments of the law, you keep and fulfil them. And 
these are they : — 

First ; you will neither worship idols, nor any kind of 
false god. 

You will not falsely swear, in Grod's name. 

You will keep Sundays, and all appointed feasts. 

You will honour father and mother. 

You will not commit murder. 

You will not commit adultery. 

You will not steal. 

You will not bear false witness. 

You will neither desire nor covet your neighbour's wife ; 
and also will not covet anything of another. 

The Lady. 

I farther will and command, that you, in everything, 
subscribe to the Twelve Articles of the Faith, which are 
virtues in divinity, nurses to a rectitude of mind ; as says 
Cassiodorus, in his exposition of tlie Credo ; " that faith is 
the light of the soul, the gate of Paradise, the key to 
eternal life ; for, without faith, none can please God. 
And on this head, says St. Peter, the Apostle : — 

Sine fide impossibile est placere Deo. — vi. cap. 

That is to say, my friend, that, '' Where there is not faith, 
it is impossible to be acceptable unto God." Of faith, 
six heads regard the divinity of God, the Father ; and the 
other six, the humanity of Jesus Christ : which six, per- 
taining to the Divinity of God, the Father, are these : — 

Believe in God, the Father, omnipotent. Creator of 
Heaven and of Earth. 

Believe in his true Son, man also ; Jesus Christ, our 
only Saviour. 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 39 

Believe in God, the Holy Spirit ; the true and fervent 
Love {vray zel et amour) of God, the Father, to God, 
the Son ; and of God, the Son, to God, the Father. 

Believe in Holy Church, and in her Commandments. 

Believe in the Communion of saints, and the Remis- 
sion of sins. 

Believe in the Resurrection of the 'flesh, and in the 
Life Eternal. 

And the six pertaining to the Humanity of Jesus 
Christ, are these : — 

Believe that the second person of the Trinity, that is 
to say, Jesus, the Son of God, the Father, was conceived 
of the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary. 

Believe that he was crucified, died, and was buried, 
under Pontius Pilate. 

Believe that, as soon as he was dead, he descended into 
Hell, to liberate the holy Prophets, and just persons, who 
were there. 

Believe that, the third day, he arose of his own proper 
power, from death to life. 

Believe that, forty days after he had risen, he as- 
cended into Heaven, his body glorified ; and that he is 
there seated at the right hand of God, the Father. 

Believe, that he will come to try the living, and the 
dead, at the terrible day of judgment. 

Farther will I, and command, that the seven Cardinal 
virtues are to be in you ; of which three are divine, and 
four moral. 

The three that are divine, are Faith, Hope, and 
Charity. 

And the four moral are, Prudence, Temperance, Vigour, 
and Justice. 

I farther will and command you, that, the seven gifts of 
the Holy Spirit, you are to credit and pursue. That is to 
say, the gift of awe, the gift of pity, the gift of know- 



40 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

ledge, the gift of fortitude, the gift of judgment, the gift 
of understanding, the gift of wisdom. 

I also will and command you, that the eight Beatitudes 
you are to cultivate and rely in. And first, humility 
of spirit, gaiety of heart ; towards yourself, tears for your 
sins ; towards others, a desire to do a rigorous justice. 
Be compassionate, and merciful ; seek to be pure at heart ; 
be at peace with all, and be patient. 

Also, I will and command you, that in the four ac- 
complishments of the person, you are to take your delight. 
That is to say, in intelligence, in subtlety, in agility, in 
facility. 

I farther will and command you, that the seven spiritual 
and godly virtues may be ever manifested on your part. 
That is to say, to instruct the ignorant, to correct the 
faulty; to put in the way the lost and the erring; to 
hide the failings of another ; to put up with injuries ; to 
comfort the comfortless, and to pray for all sinners. 

I farther will and command you, that the corresponding 
seven virtues of a more material compassion, be likewise 
evidenced of you. And above all, to feed the hungry ; to 
give to the thirsty drink ; to house the poor, to clothe 
the naked, to visit the sick, to ransom the prisoners, to 
bury the dead. And on this head, says my lord, St. 
Gregory, in his epistle to Nepotian, " I cannot recall to 
have ever read or heard tell of any coming to an unfor- 
tunate end who had sufficiently abounded in works of 
charity ; for so many mediators will be found for such an 
one that it is impossible but their prayers must be 
effectual." And, to the purpose, says our Lord, in the 
Evangel: — 

Beati misericordes, quoniam ipsi misericordiam consequentur. — 
Mathcei, v. cap. 

That is to say, my friend, " Happy are the merciful, for they 
shall obtain mercy ; so many entreaters will they find." 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 41 

Farther, I will and command, that you will firmly 
believe in the seven sacraments of Holy Church ; that is 
to say, in the holy Baptism, in the holy Confirmation, in 
a sincere Penitence, in the holy sacrament of the Altar, 
in the holy Orders, in the order of Marriage, and in the 
holy Unction. 

And I farther will and command, that you use all your 
might to avoid falling into the six mortal sins ; and first, 
pride ; next envy ; then laziness ; after gluttony, anger, 
and incontinence. 

The Lady. 

I farther will and command you, that you have a care, 
let what will overtake you, of falling into any of the 
seven sins against the Holy Spirit ; which are despair, 
presumption, a denial of the truth, to harden oneself in 
the sin of brotherly envy, breach of charity, despair in the 
ultimate virtues of penitence. With this, I command you, 
that, when in your power, you will be present at the 
sermons and ceremonies of Holy Church. And, to be 
short, whatever Holy Church wills and commands, no 
matter what any one may say, you are to attend to. I 
farther will and command, that, at the beginning, or at the 
middle of Lent, at Easter, at Pentecost, and at the five 
feasts of our Lady, at All-Saints, at Christmas, you con- 
fess, and put yourself in the hands of some discreet 
physician of the soul, just as you would your body. I 
farther will and command you, that, be you in the 
company of whom you may ; King, Queen, Lords or 
Ladies ; or where you list ; in the field, in the street, or 
in the doors ; whenever you shall see the images of our 
Lord, our Lady, however homely they may be, or yet the 
Cross, or any of the angels, saints or saintesses, to whom 
all worship is due ; incontinent you will raise your hat or 
cap ; and this, regardless of what any one may either say 



42 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

or think. And if so be that you have not got one on, 
then let your, salutation 1)e made within you, and from 
your heart. And it is to be the same with the poor. 
If they ask you for alms, give it, if you have to give ; if 
you have not, let your own conscience attest its own 
willingness, and call on God to witness of the same. 
And if, through any apprehension of being ridiculed, you 
refrain from these things, then, I have to tell you,- you 
will be guilty of as mortal a sin as if you had fallen into 
the other extremes of hypocrisy, of ostentation, and of vain 
glory. 

The Lady again. 

I farther will and command you, that when you shall be 
grown, so as to be a participator in the noble feats of arms, 
as men of war are wont ; in battles, in sieges ; by land and 
by sea ; in strife of death, whether singly or with the 
companions ; in mines beneath, or on the battlements 
above ; on the ladder, at the barrier, on the sally, in the 
ambush, or wherever else you may be ; you will ever have 
on your lips that most holy invocation which our Lord 
gave to Moses, to be by him passed to Aaron, his brother, 
the high priest of the law, and wherewith-all he was 
to bless the sons of Israel ; as is said in the Bible, in the 
book of Numbers, fourteenth chapter : — 

Benedicat tibi Dominiis, et custodiat te, ostendat tibi faciem suam 
Dominus, et misereatur tiii. 

Convertat Dominus vultum simm ad te. Et det tibi pacem. 

For this supplication, proceeding, as it does, from the 
very mouth of Our Lord, appears to me to be more laudable 
and efficacious than any other that I know of. And, for 
this reason, I would recommend it to you, as well when you 
rise, as when you go to rest. But, as it seems to me, 
that, in making use of it, you rather bless others than 



of Huh Jehan de Saintre, 43 

yourself, I would have you, when you make^ the sign of 
the cross, to say as follows : — 

Benedicat miclii Dominus et custodiat me. 

Ostendat miclii faciem siiam Dominus et misereatur mei. 

Convertat Dominus vultum suum ad me et det michi pacem. 

And, whatever you do, do it cheerfully, and so will no 
trouble ever come nigh you. And this benediction, my 
lord, St. Francis, put upon brother Lyon, his companion, 
overtaken of a devilish provocation, and which never after 
troubled him. 

The Lady. 
I farther will and command you, that, when you shall 
be in the wars, and in the fight, and shall have come to 
be triumphant over your adversaries ; or when vengeance, 
or when wakened ire shall fire you, that you wHU call to 
mind the words, where it is said in the first book of the 
Bible, Uteronomy : — 

Quicumque fundet sanguinem humanum, furdetur et sanguis 
illius. 

Again, says he, in his passion : — 

Qui gladio percusserit, gladio peribit. 

Again, says he, to David : — 

Non edificabis miclii domum. Quia vir sanguinis es. 

Another time, says he, by the mouth of David, — 

Yir sanguinum et dolosus non videbit dies suos. 

That is to say, my friend, " That the man of blood shall 
not live out all his days." And what he said before, 
my friend, was, '' That, who kills with the sword, shall 
perish with the sword." Again, says he : — 

Yirum sanguinum et dolosum abominabitur dominus. 

That is to say, my friend, ^' That the man of blood, and 



44 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

the spiteful, is an abomination to our Lord." Again, says 
lie, by the mouth of David : — 

Si occiderit Deus peccatores viri sanguinum decimate k me. 

That is to say, my friend, " Though thou, Lord, mayest 
slay the sinners ; let not blood be under my hand." And 
so many other minor charities has he put upon us, and 
enforced by his own example, and of which the Scrip- 
tures are full, that it would not be in the power of the 
greatest clerk so much as to rehearse them. And,, for 
this reason, my friend, from this unnatural vice, as from 
every other, I will and command that you preserve your- 
self clean and quit ; and that you will, to the best of your 
power, abstain from offending either God, our Lady, or 
any of the court of Paradise ; and that you will take up 
with those never-enough-to-be-admired words of Seneca, 
who was a heathen, yet who says : — 

Si scirem Deos ignoscituros, et homines ignoraturos, non tamen 
dignarer peccare jDropter vilitatem ipsius peccati. 

That is to say, my friend, " Though I might know, that 
neither gods saw me, nor could men espy me, yet, for all 
that, would I not sin." Fancy, then, my friend, if Seneca, 
who was but a poor heathen, thus held vice and sin in 
abomination, how much more should we, who, by the 
precious rite of baptism, are become members of the holy 
faith of Jesus Christ ? So, all these things I have to 
require that you will do your endeavour to accomplish. 

The Lady again. 
And as for the other matters, which regard your person ; 
I desire and command that, every morning, as soon as 
you arise, and every night, before you lie down, you will 
bless yourself, making, most scrupulously, the sign of the 
cross, this way, and not sideways, or crooked, as I warned 
you of, in the devil's characters ; commending yourself to 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 45 

God, to our Lady, to the true cross, to your good angel, 
and to all the saints and saintesses, your intercessors. 
And you will rise betimes, and you will dress yourself 
cheerfully, and as nicely as you can, and without making 
any noise. And as soon as you have got your doublet 
laced, and your stockings nicely on and tightly drawn, 
and your shoes well rubbed, then you will comb yourself ^ 
and wash your hands and face ; then clean your nails, 
and, if necessary, pare them. You will then put on your 
belt, and draw your frock down. And when you are all 
ready, or ever you leave your room, make the sign of the 
cross, to our Lord, and to our Lady ; and to them, and to 
your good angel, and to all the saints and saintesses 
recommend yourself. Then, do this, as Saint Augustin 
requires, when he says : — 

Primo qneerite regnum Dei. 

Which is to say, before you proceed to do anything else, be 
it what it will, go first to the chapel, and take of the holy 
water ; and if mass is going on, attend to it ; and if it is 
not, you are to get on your knees before the images, or 
the pictures of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of our Lady ; 
and, with your hands clasped, and without any gazing 
either here of there, you are to say your prayers and 
orisons, with all the devotion you are capable of; not, how- 
ever, to them, but out of a love to him who is in the 
heavens. And, after that, you will go into the great hall, 
and there, with all the knights and squires, you will wait 
till my lord the King, and madame the Queen, or either 
of them, may be going to hear mass, when you are to 
accompany them. And if you have not yet heard it, 
then, without looking about you, you are to fall on your 
knees ; taking care, however, not to be in the front of any 
lord or lady, who, in honour, are to be preferred before 
you. But neither are you to put yourself among the 



46 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

grooms, at the back ; for, in all things, the mean is to be 
preserved, as says the philosopher, in his Ethics, to this 

effect : — 

Yirtus consistit in medio. 

That is to say, my friend, ^^That virtue consists in a 
medium state, and the Versifier says, on the same 

head : — 

Medium tennere beati. 

That is to say, my friend, " That those are blessed who, 
not seeking after things too high, are to be contented 
with reason." And you are then, unfeignedly, and from 
your heart, whilst mass is being said, to repeat your 
prayers, or other lessons which you may be in the habit of 
saying, whilst it is going on. And, that over, you will 
then worshipfuUy reconduct my lord and madame. Then, 
if you happen to be either hungry or thirsty, by all means 
go and breakfast ; but see that it is sparingly, and not for 
the mere sake of cramming, as I charged you before. You 
are to put off eating, if you can, till dinner-time ; as says 
the philosopher : '' that one ought only to eat and drink 
to live ; not live to eat and drink." And true is it, what 
poor folk say of us, their masters; ''that guzzling kills 
more of us than does the sword." And I farther forbid 
you to be quarrelsome, or a liar, or a tattle-tale, for 
these are things that carry no good with them. Cassio- 
dorus, in his book on the Extollation of St. Pol, says, 
" that wickedness, from its very nature, and even though 
there be none to expose it, will expose itself. But, on 
the contrary, such is the character of virtue, so fixed and 
unassailable is it, that, more it finds of calumniators, more 
and more will it vindicate itself" And on this head, 
says the Holy Scripture ; — 

Super omnia Veritas secundum. — Esdras, iij. cap. 
That is to say, ''That truth is above all things." And 



of little JeJian de SaintrS. 47 

for this, my friend, be always firm and truthful, and fly 
the company of scandal- mongers, the noisy and the idle, 
for with them harbours neither peace nor safety. Also, 
have clean hands, as clean lips : do all the good you can 
to all, without grudging ; nor think yourself too fine for, 
or above, anything. Seek the company of none but the 
wise ; attend to, and treasure what falls from them. Be 
humble and courteous. You are not to speak of yourself 
at any time ; nor yet too much of anything at all ; for the 
old adage says, '' of too much babbling, one comes to be 
taken for a fool ;" or, again, too little. And you are to have 
an especial care, that no lady or gentlewoman, nor any 
female whomsoever, comes to trouble on your account. 
And should you happen to be in the company of any 
who so far forgets herself as to address you unbecomingly, 
you are to show her, civilly but firmly, that such fami 
liarities are unpleasing to you, and to withdraw. 

The Lady again. 
I farther will and command you, that you will be 
merciful toward the poor, and that you will never make 
light of the misfortunes of another ; and that, to the ut- 
most of your ability, you will distribute to the necessi- 
tous. And you will remember the words of Albertus : — 
Non tua claudatur ad vocem pauperis auris. 

That is to say, my friend, " Let not your ears be closed to 
the cry of the distressed." And I farther will and com- 
mand you, that, should it ever come that God, in his 
graciousness, shall have raised you to be famous among 
men, on no account are you then to forget, for the tran- 
sitory and unsatisfying joys of earth, the ever-glorious and 
imperishable riches of the sky. On this head, I have 
already told you the words of the poet, which are these : — 

Quando dives moritur in tres partes dividitur : caro datur vermibiis ; 
pecunia parentibus : anima demonibus : nisi Dens miseretur. 



48 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

That is to say, my friend, that " As soon as the rich 
man is dead, he and his goods are parted. And this is the 
disposement — -his body to the worms ; his gold, his silver, 
his jewels, with all he had, to his successors ; his soul to 
the devil ; that is, if Grod has not mercy on it." And on 
this head, my friend, remember that beautiful passage in 
Aristotle, where he says :- — 

Yir bone qiiam ciiras res viles res perituras. 
Nil profuturas damno quandoque futuras. 
Nemo di^ mansit in crimine : sed cito transit. 
Et brevis atque levis in mundo gloria peris. 

That is to say, my friend, that Aristotle, in his general 
doctrine, says, " 0, whoever thou art, that, by overween- 
ing might seekest to scale the highest heights of riches 
and of honour, have a heed lest, by the vain attempt, 
you be precipitated into the depths beneath. For, great 
enterprise, great risk. And when all is done, and what 
is worse than all, you will have to die." 

The Lady. 
I farther will and command you, to be carried in your 
memory, that, in all your prosperity, you will be mindful 
of the words of Seneca, in his last book, on Benefits, in 
the XXL Chapter, where he says, ''That those in place 
are in want of nothing, save only of some one from whom 
they can hear the truth." And on this follow sundry 
recapitulations of the vyings and the heart-burnings which 
are ever at the courts of great lords, as to who will be 
the most obsequious toward them, and the most cunningly 
shall flatter them. And on this head is written, in the 
Polities, in the third Book, and in the ninth chapter, 
" that the sycophant is an enemy to all right-mindedness ; 
that he instils himself, as it were a bung, into the right 
eye of his lord, who may be listening to him. Thus are 
great men blinded; by which means they lose, as well 



oj little Jehan de Saintre, 49 

the love of God, as all self-respect and knowledge of them- 
selves. For the most part, they neither know what it is 
they should follow, nor what it is they should avoid; 
and look to be right roundly praised, for what, in reality, 
they should be as right roundly blamed. And all this 
comes of no other fault of theirs, than that they cannot 
abide to hear the truth. And for this reason, my friend, 
above every other thing that I have told you, or may 
have to tell you, observe and remember, you are to avoid 
that most pestilent of all foUowings, the following of 
flatterers. And, trust me, if ever jom come to be any 
one, or to be possessed of anything, you will have enough 
of them. And these things, I urge upon you, that God 
may be your true friend, and that you may arrive to be 
a man of renown, in your generation ; that your name may 
be heard of, not only in this kingdom, but throughout the 
length and breadth of Christendom. And so it cannot be 
otherwise, but that by an obedience to the ser\dce of our 
Lady, and of your Lady J9ar amour, you will be in the long- 
run saved ; not only your body, but body and soul toge* 
ther. And this is enough for the present. And as soon 
as I see that you are conforming yourself to all that I 
have told you, or, at any rate, doing so to the best of your 
capacity, I will then love you, and show you kindness, 
and you will be my friend. Xow, tell me, faithfully, what 
you think of all this ; do you feel an inclination in you to 
obey me ?" 

Saixtr:6. 
Then the little Saintre threw himself on his knees, and 
presently said, " Madame, for all you have told me, I am 
obliged to you ; and, if it please God, it shall be obeyed." 

The Lady. 
" You will !" said Madame ; '• we will see how you go 
on. Now, be of good heart, come what will ; and do not 

E 



50 The History and pleasant CTironicle 

be distressing yourself about what you have heard. And 
remember, I would not have you to laugh, or appear to 
understand anything, lest my women should at any time 
misgive us. But, before them, you are to look sheepish, 
and put out, just as you did before. Now, wait for me, 
for I will come to you again presently." 

The Authok. 

Then Madame, who was seated, arose, and said aloud to 
her ladies, " Heh, what are we to think of this yoimg 
ne'er-do-good ? Though he has been all this hour at con- 
fession, I have not yet got out of him who his Lady is ?'" 
Then, as in a fury, she said to him, "Away with you, for a 
sot ; you will never come to anything !" And as she was 
going into her closet, she turned, still as in a rage, and 
said, "Wait where you are, I will make one more trial of 
you." Then, right tickled in his own mind, after all 
Madame had told him ; pretending to be in the sulks, he 
remained, as she commanded him. 

And when, in a little time, Madame had returned, she 
called him to her, and said out loud, so that all might 
hear, " So, young master, am I never to know who this 
Lady is ? If I guess her right, on your faith, will you 
tell me ? Now, is it not So and So, or So and So ?" 

" Madame, indeed, no." "Then it is So and So, or So 
and So, or So and So? Now, ladies, see the affront he 
has put upon you ; for did you not go guarantee for him, 
that, by this time, he would have elected his Lady, and 
you see, it is none of all these ?" 

" But," said they, " it cannot be but he has one ; and, 
such being the case, take him apart, and if she is such as 
she should be, he will tell it to you, and thus he will be 
quit of his oath." 

Then Madame, all laughing, and as if it was a capital 
joke, took him aside, and quietly said to him : — 



of little Jehan de SaintrS. 5 1 



CHAPTER X. 

How the Lady, already smitten witli the love of the little Saintre, 
gave him twelve ecus to set himself up with, and to have himself 
nicely dressed. 

The Lady. 

^^^ ^' l\/r^ friend, I give you this purse, sucli as it is, with 
i-V-L the twelve ecus that are in it. And it is my 
wish that the colours of which it is made, and that the 
motto which is on it, from this day forward will be yours. 
You are to adopt and wear them for my sake. And the 
twelve ^cus you will lay out on a doublet of damask, or 
of crimson satin ; two pairs of fine stockings, the one of 
a rich scarlet, the other of a copper black, of Saint Lo ; 
and they must be all embroidered, and of the colour and 
of the device of the purse. And besides, you will get four 
pairs of linen collars, and four kerchiefs, nicely smoothed, 
and shoes and slippers, neatly fitting you. And when 
you have done all this, let me see you, in your new trim 
next Sunday, and be sure you do everything discreetly 
and warily ; and soon, please God, I will do more for you 

than that. 

The Lady. 

Then the little Saintre, like an innocent little thing as 

he was, and all out of countenance, could not be brought 

to accept the purse, telling Madame, ^' that he was obliged 

to her, but she must not be offended at his refusing it ; for^ 

as yet, he had done nothing for her." 

The Lady. 
'' Nothing for me !" cried Madame. '' I know well you 
have done nothing for me. It would be very odd if you 
had ; but, if it please God, you will yet do plenty for me. 
So I request and desire you to take it." And, saying 
this, slyly and quietly wrapping it up in a cloth, she 
slipped it into his sleeve, telling him, " Now, you may be 



52 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

off, and mind you do as I told you, and that I never hear 

anything but good of you. So, God be with you, and 

remember, you are not to be seen in the gallery again till 

you have on your new clothes. And for the present, I 

will add nothing, save that I will pray God you may be 

found answerable to all, or, at any rate, the most part of 

what I expect of you. Then continued Madame, in a 

gruff voice, and aloud, " Oflf, out my presence, for a 

craven wretch ! For this once you are safe ; you have 

yet to be absolved ; another time, you shall meet with 

no such mercy." 

The Authob. 

And when he had taken his piteous leave, and was out 
of the chamber, she said to her women, laughing, " I do 
verily believe we are but losing our time over him ; he 
has not got it in him to choose his Lady, nor do I believe 
he knows what it is to be in love. At any rate, he is 
good enough to laugh at, so we will keep him to it.'' 

Then Madame had herself undressed and went to bed, 
as did the rest of them ; by this time well wearied of the 
unconscionable parley of Madame and of Saintre. And 
now I will forbear to speak of Madame and her women, 
and return to the little Saintre. 



CHAPTER XI. 

How the little Saintre had himself finely set out, as the Lady had 
desired him. And after, how the said Lady found him in the 
gallery, and made him follow her into her chamber ; inquiring of 
him, — What device was that he wore? And this on purpose, so 
that her Gentlewomen might not suspect anything ; and how she 
gave him yet other twelve ecus in a purse. 

The Author again. 

THE little Saintr^, as soon as he had got well away from 
the door, looking about for the nearest corner, and 
that nobody was by, presently made for it. And, first, 



of little Jehan de SaintrL 5 3 

he draws his purse from out of his sleeve, and laying it 
out, considers it. And when he saw it all so nice, and the 
twelve ecus in it, it is not to be questioned, but he was en- 
chanted ; for the King, himself, he did not take to be more 
rich. And in turning over with himself how best he 
was to carry out the instructions of Madame, and how fine 
he was to be on the following Sunday, he fell to dancing 
and capering at the thoughts of it. Then straight he 
went to Perrin de Solles, who was the King's tailor, and 
said to him, " Perrin, my friend, for how much can I have, 
for Sunday next, a doublet for myself? but it must be of 
damask, and as crimson as it can be." 

Perrin, having thought a little, and taken his measure, 
said to him, " Have you any money ?" 

" Yes, Perrin ; but it must not be too dear." 

Then Perrin, seeing what a graceful little fellow he was, 
said to him, '' Saintrd, my son, on my faith you cannot have 
it for less than six ecus ; but it shall be of the very finest." 

Then Saintr^, all young and generous, without another 
word, put his hand into his purse, and taking out the six 
ecus, handed them to him. And as soon as the affair of the 
doublet was settled, he went to John de Busses, who was 
stocking-maker to the King ; and with him he made a 
bargain for two pairs of stockings, that, one with another, 
were to cost him two ^cus, and which he paid for down. 
Then he went to Frangois de Nantes, embroiderer to the 
King, and showed him the purse to embroider by, as 
Madame had devised ; and the bargain was for two ecus. 
So that there were only two left. Then he went to a good 
wife of the town, of whom his father, the Lord de Saintre, 
had oftentimes spoken to him, and said to her, " Marie 
de Lisle, my good mother, can I have two pairs of fine 
linen collars for Sunday first, and for one ecu ?" 

'' Yes, that you can," said Marie. 

" Then, my mother, here it is ; and manage so, that 



54 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

next Sunday I can have one for certain." Then drawing 
his purse out of his sleeve, he opened it out, and showed 
her the two ecus. 

''But, my son," said she, ''who gave them to you?" 

" Troth," said he, " Madame, my mother, sent me twelve ; 
one, you must take as the price of the two pairs of linen 
collars ; and the other, with the purse, will be my own." 

And when Marie saw the purse looking so pretty, she 
was well pleased for his sake, and said to him, " God 
requite the Lady who cares in this way for her son!" 
Then she said to him, " And the other ten ecus?" 

" My mother," said he, " they are already laid out." 

" Alas, my son !" said she, " have you not lost them, or 
spent them as you should not?" 

" No, my mother, I have not ; but, Sunday you will 
know all about it." And so the whole week went away, 
till the Sunday morning, when who should come in, 
together, into the chamber of Jacques Martel, the first 
equerry of the stable of the King, and where Saintre and 
the other royal pages slept, but our said Perrin de Solles, 
tailor to the King ; Jehan de Busses, stocking-maker ; 
FranQois de Nantes, broiderer ; and Guillaume Soldan, 
shoemaker ; all of the King ; carrying, one the doublet ; 
another, the embroidered stockings ; and the third, the 
shoes and the slippers ! And when Jacques Martel heard 
that they were all at the door of his room together, he 
ordered it to be opened. And when they were all come 
in, and he had seen what it was they had with them, he 
asked them, " Who all this was for?" 

" My master," said they all, " we are for the little 
Saintre ; we are all for him." 

Then Jacques, turning to the little Saintre, said to him, 
laughing, " Faith, Saintr^, you must have been getting in 
your rents !" 

" My master," said he, " it is Madame, my mother, who 



of little JeTian de Saintre. 5 5 

has settled for all this, for she sent me money, as well to 
amuse myself with, as to get what I might want. And it 
seems to me, that, except to keep myself dressed, as I 
should be, I have but little call for money." 

"Now, truly," said the equerry, "I loved you well 
before, but from this day forth, I will love you yet more." 
Then turning to the other gentlemen and pages, he said 
to them, " Ha, worthless lads ; when will your pocket- 
money be spent as Saintre's," instead of fooling it away 
at cards, at dice ; in taverns, cellars, and in brothels ! 
What have I not done to keep you from them ? " 

Then said Saintre, " Now, my master, dress me ; and 
mind you make me fine." 

And when he had everything on, the little Saintre, who 
had already settled for all, gave to his playfellows the one 
half of the remaining ecu, and the other to the grooms of 
the yard, who, all along, had loved him more than any 
other of the pages, for he had always let them have their 
part in any luck that came to hhn. 

And when the equerry, with the rest, were dressed, 
and they had heard mass, they went to the audience-hall 
to wait upon the King ; but it was not without many a 
heart-burning, and a surmise, on the part of the other 
pages, that they kept looking at Saintre. And as soon as 
the King had come out of his chamber, and had seen the 
little Saintre in all his new equipment, he began to laugh, 
and to ask the equerry, "How comes it he is so fine all of 
a sudden ?" 

" Sir," said he, " to my amazement, this morning, in 
came Perrin de SoUes^ Jehan des Busses, Franjois de 
Nantes, Guillaume Soldan, with their varlets, into my room, 
all carrying his clothes. I verily thought I was in for the 
bailiif." 

On hearing this, the King and all his courtiers began to 
say, " that he had well done." 



$6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Then said the Kmg, " I would be well content he had 
some three or four of my years, he should be my trencher 
varlet." And with this, he went to mass, together with 
the Queen. And as soon as mass was over, and they 
were coming back, Madame saw the little Saintre, a little 
way off, looking so nice and graceful. Then, as they were 
proceeding, she stepped forward, and said to the Queen, 
'' Hey, Madame, look here ; just see the little Saintre, 
how dear a little fellow he is." 

" Ha, fair Cousin," said the Queen, '' you are right ; it 
is really a pleasure to see him." 

On this, they were going into the great hall to dinner. 
Madame, who could never so much as take her eyes off 
him ; so as to be able to get closer to him, and speak to 
him in private, making for some other ladies, said to 
them, " Supposing we have a look what device it is the 
little Saintre has got upon his stockings? Things have 
come to a pretty pass when such young whelps as this 
are setting up their devices, and announcing themselves 
for squires of dames !" 

'' Hey, Madame," said one, " it shows the gentleness of 
his nature ;" another, " Hey, 'fore God, let us see what 
it is !" and a third, ^' Madame, come, let us go loo^." 

Then Madame, and they all, went to a window, and 
having made him come to them, she said, as if she knew 
nothing of the matter, " Ha, master, ha, we want to have 
a look at, and Inake out this wondrous device of yours 
upon your stockings." 

Then the little Saintre, who was upon his knees, began 
to entreat that they would spare him. '' But no," said 
they, "' for most assuredly we will see it, and at once, 
too ; so, no more about it, for the King is going to dinner." 

Then one of them caught him by the arm, another by 
the shoulder, a third by the legs; and when they had 
whipped him off his feet, they laid him on his back. Then 



of little JeJian de Saintre. 57 

Madame, with the ladies who were with her, together 
with many others whom they called, kneeling down over 
him, examined all these fine devices. And when Madame 
heard all the admiration of the devices, such was her 
delight, that it set her altogether, as well body as mind, 
in a tremble and a flame. And as soon as the boards 
were removed, and grace had been said ; brief, when the 
minstrels and the tabours had struck up, and the dancing 
and the singing been prolonged, till the King, who was 
about to retire, had called for the spicery, and the parting 
cup : Madame, who all the time had never removed her 
eyes from off the little Saintre, so well and so nicely did 
he sing and dance, began to think that she would like to 
see the devices a little nearer, and speak to him again. 
For, the more she saw of him, the more she liked him ; 
nor, indeed, was there man or woman in the Court who 
did not foresee that, sooner or later, he would come to be 
heard of. And as he was handing to this one, and to 
that, the cups, Madame, as he was passing, said, •' Wait 
for me, little Saintre, where we were the other day." This, 
he perfectly understood; and presently after the King 
withdrew, and the Queen retired to rest. And as Madame 
was returning to her chamber, she found the little Saintre 
in the gallery, as she had ordered him. So she said to 
him, as if half surprised, " Hey, master ; how fine you 
are ! get on before. Where have you been these five or 
six days ? You must give an account of yourself" Then, 
turning to her women, she said, " We must see this young 
fellow's devices ; and, if we can, make out of him how 
he came by them, and all about it; for I never will 
believe that he either has the wit or the spirit to be in 
love." And in gossiping this way, she reached her 
chamber, where she dismissed all her gentlemen, except- 
ing only Saintre. Next, she made him close the door. 
Then, placing him in the centre, Madame told him she 



58 The Sistory and pleasant Chronicle 

was determined to know about the devices; so she said 
to him, " Ha, master, master, you tell us you have no 
lady, and yet you make yourself fine, this way ?" 

" Madame," said he, " thank God, it was Madame, my 
mother, who made me this way." 

" And how can that be ?" said she, " she lives in Lor- 
raine, nor do I believe she was ever at the Court in her 
Hfe." 

"Madame," said he, "it is twelve ecus, she sent me in 
a beautiful purse of gold and silk, that have made me 
fine." 

"Now, certainly," said Madame, "we must see this 
purse, and know where the twelve ecus have gone to ; for 
if they have not been spent as they should be, I will 
write to her, that she sends no more," 

Then the little Saintre drew the purse fi:om his sleeve, 
and took it out of its cover. Madame, who knew for a 
certainty that none of her women had ever seen it, took 
it, and looked at it, before them all, as though it were 
for the first time. And when she had compared the 
device upon the stockings with that upon the purse, and 
seen that they were the same, she said to him, "Now, 
young master ; first, What did this doublet come to ?" 

"Madame," said he, "I gave for it, to Perrin des 
SoUes, six ecus." "And the stockings," said Madame; 
" who made them, and what did they cost you ?" 

"Madame," said he, "these scarlet stockings, and an- 
other pair, of fine copper colour, of St. Lo, cost me two 
ecus, with Jehan de Busses. And, for the embroidering 
of the stockings, I gave two other ecus to Franfois de 
Nantes." 

" And what became of the remaining two ecus ?" 

" Madame, of the one, with three sols, I got two pairs 
of fine linen shirts ; and with twenty sols, I had three pairs 
of shoes, and three pairs of slippers. The remainder I 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 59 

gave to my companions, to the varlets who came with the 
things, and to the laquies of my master, the equerry, to 
drink with." 

Madame, who was well pleased to hear all this, and 
saw how much this courtesy and generosity would tell for 
him with the world, said, laughing, to her women, '^ He 
has pocketed the half of it." 

'' By my faith, Madame, saving your grace, there is not 
a denier of it left." 

" Then," said Madame, '* this time, at any rate, I will 
have out of you who your Lady is ? Come here and 
speak to me." 

'' Nay, Madame," said they, " you are too hard upon 
him, persecuting him, this way, about such matters." 

" Do not you be troubling yourselves," said Madame ; 
^' just fall a little back, for I am determined to know it." 

And as soon as they had withdrawn, Madame said to 
him, " Now, hear me, my friend ; up to now, I am well 
satisfied with you. Strive still to do what is right, for you 
are perfectly equal to it. But, above all things, I have to 
charge you, from one and all, be it the dearest friend you 
have on earth, keep what is passing, and has passed be- 
tween us." 

" That I will, Madame, for I have leaver die.'^ 

'' Now, my friend, you must get two other robes, of 
which the one will be of fine black cloth, of St. Lo, and is 
to be lined with marten. And the other is to be of a fine 
gray, of Monti villiers, and will be lined with fine white 
flannel, for every day's wear, excepting when you will 
be out with the King. And you will also have a doublet 
of satin blue, and two other pairs of fine stockings, ker- 
chiefs, shirts, and slippers. And you must also provide 
yourself with clothes to play in ; for this you must do to 
keep yourself in health ; as also with bows and arrows, 
and bats and raquets for tennis. And in order to all this, 



6o The Sistory and pleasant Chronicle 

and to support you in your new state, I give you sixty 
ecus, and I will then see how matters go on. And as you 
have not yet got any valet, you are to get Gillet, who is a 
steady, and to-be-depended-on servant of the equerry, to 
look after your wardrobe, shoes and things ; and for his 
wages, you will give him eight sols the month. And if 
you carry yourself discreetly and warily, you shall have 
collar and chain, belts of Bohemia, robes of damask, and 
everything you can wish for ; but all, provided only you 
prove yourself to be a man of honour, close and loyal." 

'^ Madame," said he, " with God's permission I shall be 
all that." 

'' And, my friend, mind this. However displeased I 
may appear, or however heartlessly I may treat you before 
my women, you are not to vex yourself.'' 

" No, Madame, I will not, since such is your wish." 

" Let nothing put you out." 

Then began Madame, incontinent, to rate him bravely 
before her gentlewomen, as if she was in a horrible rage 
with him. Then she went to her garderobe, and taking 
out of her coffer sixty ecus, she put them in a purse. 
Then she returned, and calling him to her, said, " Ho, Sir, 
ho ; are you still coming the obstinate ; am I never to be 
trusted in ? And if you will not tell it to me, then tell 
it to Madame Jehanne, or to Madame Katherine, or to 
Isabelle, or to the one of them you like." 

" And what, Madame, would you have me tell ; when 
I have none ?" 

" Have none ! and yet you have devices, and initials 
among them. Sir sniveller ! A pretty fellow, too, to want 
to make himself pass for a lover !" 

" Madame, on my faith, I have told you whom I love, 
in this world, best, and who it was that ordered me to wear 
the devices." 

" Ha, master, master, you take us for simpletons, so you 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 6i 

do, to be talking to us this way about your mother. I can 
easily understand that you love your mother, and that it 
is she who supports you ; but don't you tell me, it is her 
devices you wear. Come here ; I have just bethought me 
of another, whom I do verily believe it is." 

Then she took him apart, and said to him, " Take this 
purse, and mind you do not lose it ; there are sixty ecus 
in it, and be careful what you do with it. And, for the 
future, you are to remember to keep clear of the galleries, 
at the hours when I mostly pass, and you are not, too fre- 
quently, to stop to talk to me. But whenever you see me 
pick my teeth with my bodkin, thus, you are then to under- 
stand that I want to speak to you, and immediately to rub 
your right eye ; for by this, I will know that you have 
caught my meaning to a certainty, and will expect you. 
Kow, mind you do what is right, so that I can love you ; 
and as soon as I see that you are conducting yourself as 
you should do, then will I adopt you for my friend, and 
you shall be equipped as you deserve." 

"Madame," said he, ''with God's grace, all shall be 
done." 

" Now, you may go : I want to sleep ; and remember, 
however much I may chide you, rate or laugh at you, 
before the world, you are not to take it to heart. Put up 
with it, and go through with it." 



62 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTEK XII. 

How tlie Lady feignedly menaced the little Saintre, telling him 
before her ladies that he would never do any good. And how, 
after that, the little Saintre had other clothes made with the 
money which Madame had given him ; and l^ow the Lady spoke 
to him, and he told her that it was his mother who had sent him 
the money with which he had dressed himself. 

The Author again. 

THEN Madame, as in an anger, said to him, ^' Off with 
you, young man, off, for you will never come to any 
good!" 

''' Alas, Madame," said they all, '' surely you are not 
in earnest ? you will not for ever banish him ?" and, 
" Saintre, surely it would be better to tell Madame the 
truth." 

Saintre, who well knew what was going on in the 
heart of Madame, now, in his turn, pretending to be 
angry too; fell on his knees, and without so much as re- 
joining, took his leave. Then they all set to, to make 
themselves merry with all the terrible assaults of Madame, 
saying, ''Faith, we have seen the last of him: depend 
upon it the sport is spoiled ; we will not catch him in a 
hurry again." But they little knew the pleasant under- 
standing that there was between Madame and him. 

"Tush," said Madame, ''he is not going to get off 
that way. The best of the joke has yet to come." 

'' Alas," said Isabelle, " it vexes me to see the poor 
child tortured this way !" 

And now I will forbear a while, to speak of the tricks 
and merriment that Madame and her women were per- 
mitting themselves, and begin to speak of how he spent 
the sixty ecus. 



of little Jehan de SaintrS, 63 

The Author. 
And as soon as the little Saintre had parted from 
Madame, he began to count his treasure. And when he 
came to see all the money in his hand, he was so aghasted 
that he neither knew what to do, or what to make of it. 
And the whole day was spent in deliberation, where or 
how he was to hide them; for neither to the equerry, 
nor yet to anybody else durst he intrust a sight of them ; 
inasmuch as Madame had expressly forbidden him to let 
any one know of it. So at last, he resolved to keep them 
in his pockets, at least till the morning, when he would 
lay them out. And when the morning was come, 
which he thought would well nigh never be, so long and 
tedious seemed the nighty he arose. And when he had 
heard mass, he went to Perrin des SoUes, and ordered the 
three furred robes, as Madame had desired him ; one of 
which he wore the Sunday following, with the damask 
blue doublet. And, for all this, he found the money to 
suffice ; and to spare. 

The Author. 

And when Madame saw the little Saintre, dressed in 
his robe of black, and lined with marten, and his doublet 
of damask blue, she was enchanted more than words 
could tell ; so, taking her pin, she made him her signal, 
to which he replied. And when Madame, in returning 
to her chamber, perceived him at a distance, in the gallery, 
she said to her women, '' Look, if yon is not our young 
joker ; we have yet to settle with him !" And as soon 
as he saw them he turned on his heel, and was making off 
another way. Then Madame sent after him, and when 
he was come, she said to him, ''Ha, master, master! is 
that the thing, to gallop off as soon as you see the ladies 
coming? Where are your manners? Gro on before." 

And when Madame had gotten to her chamber, she 



64 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

dismissed all " her people, save Jehan de Soussy, equerry 
to the Queen, and Thibault de Eoussi, her own ; two 
of the most circumspect about the Court, so that they 
might learn what she thought it was, perhaps, as well 
they should know. So she said to them, " I have made 
you men to stop, too, that you may have a laugh with us." 
Then Madame began to say to the little Saintre, " So, 
master, so ; after all the times that we have begged of 
you to tell us Avho is your Lady par amours^ never 
yet, for prayers, for entreaties, for menaces, for affronts, 
have we been able to get it out of you. And since it is 
clear that you will not trust it to any of us, at least tell it 
to Jehan de Soussy, and to Thibault de Eoussy ; or to 
whichever of them you may choose." 

'^ But, Madame," said Jehan de Soussy, " why should he 
tell it to us, seeing he refuses to tell it to you ?" 

But to this the little Saintre, who, in himself, was 
under no sort of alarm, and perfectly understood the 
drift of Madame, would not reply a 'word, pretending to 
be huffed. And when Madame saw that he would not 
confess, she said to Jehan and to Thibault, " See this 
master, with his robe furred in marten, his doublet of silk, 
his stockings broidered, and all this fine set-out, and yet 
he will have us to believe he has no Lady ! and what 
is more shameful still, that he does not want one. By my 
faith, now that I see him close, many a one would be 
willing enough to have him." And then turning to him, 
as in high displeasure, she said, '' How is it. Sir, that you, 
who are but a page, albeit you are come of a good house, 
have all these costly clothes ?" 

"Madame," said he, '^ since it is the pleasure of 
madame, my mother, that I am to be nice, and she has 
desired me to be so ; it is but meet that she be obeyed." 

" And how much did she send you?" 

" Sixty ecus, Madame." 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 6$ 

'^ Sixty ecus ! then you fooled away the half of it?" 

" No, Madame, by my faith, I have not." 

"And this robe, and this cap, these stockings, and 
this doublet, came to sixty ecus, did they? I should 
just like to know how ?" 

" Not so, Madame. I have, besides what you see, an- 
other robe of a rich blue, lined with fine lambs' -wool of 
Eomanie, also another of fine gray, of Montvilliers, lined 
with nice white flannel, two caps, and two pair of fine 
stockinets, one of which is striped. And I have four 6cus 
left." 

"And who was it put you in the way of getting all 
these fine things ?" 

" Madame, no one, except Perrin des SoUes." 

Says Madame, " I know well that he is an honest and a 
safe man; your affairs show it; for your money, as it 
seems to me, has been very properly expended. And did 
you not tell me a little ago, that she had sent you before 
twelve ecus, with which you made yourself so nice, at 
the first?" 

" Madame, yes." 

" Then may God long preserve to you such a mother, 
and see that you continue the son you are to her. And 
now you may all go, for we want to sleep." And with 
this they all withdrew. And as they were going, Jehan 
de Soussy and Thibault de Eoussy stoutly took the part of 
the little Saintre, and told him, " that he was not to be 
put out with the words of Madame ;" and, on the other 
hand, they as strongly blamed Madame for the authorita- 
tive manner in which she meddled in matters that no way 
regarded her ; prying into other peoples' affairs. 

" Faith^ you are right," said he, "it is anything but 
pleasant, to be badgered with all her impertinence ; and 
all because I will not tell her, or yet her women, who is 
my Lady par amour. Nor will they believe my word, 

F 



66 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

though I swore to them that I neither have one, nor will 
have one, nor want one. And, by my faith, even if I 
had, they should be the last to know it, for the way they 
have pestered me." And then they all began to laugh. 
And when it was told after to Madame and her women, 
what Saintre had said of them, they could not keep from 
laughing either. And so, in a little time, it came to 
pass, as Madame had intended, that all the words of Ma- 
dame and her Ladies, and the recriminations of the little 
Saintre, were sown up and down the Court; as would 
also have been certain other matters if they had but 
known them, to the no less entertainment of the same. 
And so this true and faithful attachment came to be long 
and covertly entertained ; even till Fortune, with her 
wonted mutability, thought proper to turn her back upon 
them, as you shall in the sequel hear. 

The Author. 
And this loyal and secret understanding continued 
till Saintre was in his xvi. year. About which time, 
Madame, that it might be carried on yet more warily, 
said to the little Saintre, ''My friend, it is time the 
dance should begin ; but everything must be done with 
an eye to appearances. And seeing that I have, quite 
as often as is the thing, sent for you from the gallery to 
this place ; and however you may have insisted on it, 
that it was your mother who sent you the money, and set 
you up ; for all that, strange things may come into peoples' 
heads ; and let but one come to guess how matters stand, 
and the whole is noised abroad. And, for this reason, I 
have come to the conclusion that, for the future, I w411 
not send for you any more to the gallery. But when- 
ever you may want to speak to me, or I to you, we will make 
our signals, as I showed, you, and then you will come and 
open the door of my garden, as soon as you shall have 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 6^ 

seen me return at night to my cliamber. Here Is the 
key, and there we can chat, and amuse ourselves together^ 
to our hearts' content. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

How the Lady suggested to the Queen that she should speak to the 
King to make the little Saintre his trencher squire. 

AND when they were come to the third year of their 
amours, wliich was the sixteenth of Saintre, Madame 
began to think, that he was at last big enough to leave off 
to be a page, for he was well able to carve ; and that he 
could not do better than become trencher varlet to the 
King or Queen, if it was but to be managed. So she 
began to beat about her brains, and thus she reasoned with 
herself, " If you set on the equerry ; on account of the 
tweh'e ecus, and putting one thing with another, he may 
not unlikely think it comes from you ; and if you speak 
of it to this lord, or that, odds are but they will suspect 
something. Yet, for all that, he must be pushed ; Saintre 
cannot, any longer, be left a page." And, for conclusion, 
what she decided on was, to petition the Queen to make 
the request to the King. Tlien she made her signal with 
her pin, to which the little Saintre rejoined. 

The Author. 
And when they were in the meadow together ; kissing 
him at the same time tenderly, she said to him, " Joy 
of my heart, you are now xvi. years of age ; so that you 
are too big to be any longer page. Xow, I have been 
thinking, to get you forward, that I will contrive to interest 
madame, the Queen, in you ; so that, by her influence, 
you may be appointed carver to either her or to the King. 
For, at the very first, he promised as much, when he saw 
you all so smart ; for he said, laughing, '' Had he but four 
or five of my years, he should carve before me." So I 



68 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

give you notice, that you may be prepared, in case 
Madame in any way refers to it, to thank her most 
humbly for her kindness. She is not to fancy I told her 

an untruth. 

The Author again. 

On hearing this, the little Saintre was delighted, and 

most humbly thanked Madame, who, tenderly kissing him 

again, gave him his discharge. Then as soon as Saintre 

had gone, Madame quietly closed the door, and went to 

bed. 

The Author. 

Madame, who, to advance the suit of her most humble 
servant, never omitted to be, day and night, about the 
Queen, said to her, one morning, smiling, as she was 
rising, " Madame, I must clear myself, while I bethink 
me, of what I had undertaken, but had slipped clean out 
of my mind, a dozen times over ; and that is, to be your 
solicitor, on the part of a bashful young Squire; for, so 
modest is he, that he dare not be his own." 

" And who is he ?" inquired the Queen. 

" Madame, it is the little Saintre." 

" And what is it he wants ?" said the Queen. 

"Madame, he says, he is ashamed to be any longer 
page ; that he is now xvi. or XVII. years of age ; and what 
he wants is, that you would be pleased to entreat the King 
that he might be appointed his trencher varlet. If you 
will, he says he will write to his father and mother that 
they provide him with horses, and establish him as he 
should be." 

" And, truly," said the Queen, ^'his request is reason- 
able and allowable enough. I will make it with pleasure, 
for I know well, my Lord loves him mightily. He is an 
exceedingly graceful little lad, and I hope, iair lady, that, 
some day, he will be a man of renown." 

And this request, the Queen was not long in making to 
the King ; and the King, out of his natural good-nature, 



of little JeJian de Saintre. 69 

and from all he had heard of him, told her, readily, " It 
should be," and, that there might be no time lost, on the 
next occasion the Queen saw the steward of the household, 
in the presence of the King, she recalled it to him. Then 
the King told him, that the little Saintre was to be his 
trencher varlet, and that he was to begin that very day, 
and to provide himself with three horses, and two grooms 
in livery. The steward, who knew how well the King 
was disposed toward him, and saw the Queen so pleased, 
as soon as he perceived the little Saintre, among the other 
gentlemen, he called him to him, and said, '• Little Saintre, 
good friend, what is your name ?" 

"Mister Steward," said he, ''my name is Jehan." 
'' Jehan," said he, ''from this day forth^ you cease to 
be page. The King has appointed you to be his carver ; 
and you are to have three horses, with their livery, and 
two grooms. And for this reason, my son_, if you have 
well done till now, for the time to come do better ; for 
it is the much the King has heard to your advantage, and 
the little to your discredit, that makes him love you as 
he does. Xow, do not you be too much elated for all this 
good luck ; and, doubtless, he will do more for you later. 
Keep your hands and nails clean, and the rest of your 
person as proper as you can ; for, if there is one officer 
more than another who is called upon by his proximity 
to the King to have himself sweety it is you." And theie 
was not one in the hall, or who heard of the advancement 
of the little Saintre, that was not delighted. So may we 
see what a laudable and advantageous thing it is for all 
young gentlemen to study to oblige, to offend no one ; to 
be patient, hilmble, gentle ; for by such means will they 
come to be held in the grace of God and of all honest 
people ; as says the proverb : — 

Who cannot ill and good alike support, 
Is not the man to thrive in hall or coui't. 



70 The nistory and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTEE XIV, 

How the little Saintre thanked the King and Queen, and Madame, 
for that he had been made a squire ; and how he carved before the 
King, and how handsomely he acquitted himself. 

THEN Jehan Saintre, to show himself humble, gentle, 
and grateful, as he was, cast himself at once upon his 
knees before the King, and thanked him for the great 
honour that he had done him. Then the King, like a wise, 
gracious, and condescending prince as he was, said to him, 
'' Saintre, only do what is right, and you shall see that we 
are aware of it." And then Saintre turned to the steward 
of the household, who was present, and thanked him before 
the King and every one, ibr the good word he had been 
pleased to say for him. And he felt no sort of shame, as 
many another would have had, to do this publicly. Then 
lie left, and went in search of the Queen, who was in her 
chamber. Then aloud^ before all the company, without 
appearing to take any notice of Madame, he thanked her 
humbly, upon his knees. On which the Queen said to him, 
*' Saintre, your services and your readiness to oblige us 
all, especially the Ladies, have, happily, somewhat docked 
your apprenticeship of page. You are now become Squire 
to my Lord and to myself. And, for this reason, my 
friend, strive always to do what is correct, and to make 
yourself agreeable to all ,* for^ one day, it will be returned 
to you, tenfold." Then the tables were laid, and the 
steward came to summon them to dinner ; Madame^ all the 
time, pretending to the other ladies and gentlewomen to 
have no sort of curiosity as to what had befallen Saintre ; 
carelessly remarking, '' He seemed a handy-enough sort of 
a little groom." 

The Author. 

And when the King and Queen were seated ; and 
Madame, at the end of the table, then the Steward of the 



of little Jehan de Saintre. yi 

house took the bread-basket, and gave it to Saintre, and 
laid the napkin on his shoulder ; after which, he began 
his new office of carver varlet, and so creditably did he 
acquit himself, that, both King and Queen, and all the 
company, expressed their admiration. Madame, who was 
seated at the end of the table, and who could scarce keep 
her eyes off* him, began to think to herself, Surely he now 
fully deserves his three horses, which he is to have, and 
his two grooms. Then she drew her pin from her breast, 
and, as if occupied with her teeth, she made him her 
signal, and so often, that at last Saintre perceived her: 
which, as soon as he did, as well as he could manage, he 
replied to. 



CHAPTEK XY. 

How the little Saintre spoke with Madame, who kissed him aflPec- 
tionately, in the meadow ; and how she gave him a hundred and 
and sixty ecus to provide horses, and other things necessary. 

AND as soon as it was dusk, he went to the meadow, 
and there awaited Madame, who was not long in 
coming. And then was there such caressing between 
them, as none, save he, or she, who has proved the like, 
can form the lightest imagination of. Then she said, " My 
only friend — my heart's content — we cannot long be here ; 
kiss me as if you loved me. See here, take this bag, 
which I give you ; there are one hundred and sixty ecus 
in gold in it. And you will buy yourself a handsome, dash- 
ing, and showy horse ; and mind he is fiery and spirited ; 
let him cost what he may, be it eighty ecus. And you 
will get a second, of a commoner sort, on which you are to 
ride on ordinary occasions, and for about twenty ecus ; 
and, besides these, a hack, to carry your valise and your 
groom. This will cost you thirty ecus. You will then 
have XXX. ecus over ; these, you will lay out upon appro- 



72 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

priate harness and trappings for your horses, and liveries 
for your servants ; and if there remain anything after, 
you can spend it as circumstances may require. And 
whenever you are in want of anything, make your signal ; 
that is all you have to do. And now, adieu, my hope, my 
joy, my everything to me ; adieu, adieu l" 

" And, adieu, Madame, my only mistress, and whom I 
ought to, and will obey !" And with these words they 
both separated. 

The Author. 
And for this night, the little Saintre returned to sleep 
in the chamber of the equerry, who said to him, " Saintre, 
my son, though I am more sorry than I have words to 
express to lose you, I am right glad to see where it is you 
are going to. Then, turning to the other pages of the 
King, who were about Saintre, he said, " Now, my 
children, see for yourselves ; is it not a winning thing to 
do the thing that is right, — to be gentle, courteous, humble, 
aflFable, obliging and conciliating to all. See here, your 
playmate, who, through being such, has come to be in the 
good graces of King and Queen, and everybody. Whilst 
as for you, who have not a thought in your heads but 
quarrels and noise, and cards, and dice, and how to sneak 
to your low and pothouse associates, and from which 
neither prayers nor blows will keep you ; despite of all 
your rank, your birth, or your money, the older you get, 
the more miscreant and contemptible will you become." 
And by the time he had said this to them, they were all 
undressed, and in bed. 

The Author. 

The little Saintre, as he could not break to any one the 

adventure of the hundred and sixty ecus which he had in 

his pockets, for that night could not sleep a wink out of 

fear of being robbed. God knows, if he thought the light 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 73 

would ever come, so that he could buy himself his horses. 
^^^But when, at last, it came, and he had dressed and 
heard mass, he went straight away to the burgess, Marie 
de Lisle, and said to her, " Marie, good mother, news for 
you! 

" And what are they, my son?" 

'' Marie, the King, of his good pleasure, has determined 
that I am not any longer to be page, and he made me, 
yesterday, carve before him. He has put me on the foot- 
ing of three horses and two varlets ; and he has sent me 
privily, by one of his household, one hundred and sixty 
ecus, with which I am to mount and equip, as well myself 
as the varlets, and get myself everything I want. But 
he has strictly forbidden me to speak of the money to 
any one, for fear of the jealousy that would come of it. So 
I have to pray of you, good mother, that it comes to the 
ears of none on earth." 

"Ha, fair son," said Marie, "Now, God be praised. 
Never shall mortal know of it, if you do not mention it 
yourself; for, assuredly, I will not. But how are you 
going to manage it? You must consult some one who 
understands horses, and can put you in the way of finding 
servants." 

" My good mother, and friend, I have been thinking that 
I would write to my lord, my father, to send me one or 
two. And as for the horses, our master, the equerry, 
would be but too happy to oblige me ; and there are more 
besides, if I were only to ask them. But I do not intend 
to be in any hurry, for fear people might begin to suspect 
something." 

What need I say more about it ? Before a month was 
out, he had his varlets, and was well mounted ; he and 
they with everything they wanted. And every day he 
came to be more and more in the favour of the King and 
Queen, and more and more to be talked of in the Court. 



74 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

And when Madame saw how he was in the good graces of 
the King, she took her pin, and made the appointed 
signal, which, when Saintre saw, he rejoined to. And as 
soon as it was evening, and they were in the meadow, the 
Lady said to him, " My friend and heart; thank God I 
now see clearly you are safely grounded in the love of my 
Lord and Lady. It is now time to bethink ourselves, 
how best you are to be continued in your present pros- 
perous gale, which is no easy matter in Courts. Great men, 
and great men's servants, first and foremost, must be gained, 
if not by gifts, at least by promises. You cannot give to 
all, at once; hence, necessarily, expectations must be 
dealt to some. But whatever is promised must religiously 
be performed. For, presents and expectations, when it is 
in your power and inclination to dispense them — a good 
turn, good cheer, please people, flatter them ; each, in a 
different way ; and fairly take them captive ; so that you 
have everybody at your disposition. To the ofBcers of the 
wardrobe, you should give liveries, so that they might all 
become your friends ; to the Queen, from time to time, a 
pretty ambling cob, or a handsome horse for her litter, or 
her chariot. To the other ladies you will give, according 
to their rank, to one a head-dress ; to another a belt of silver, 
nicely gilt ; to some, only fine stuffs ; to otheis, rich furs 
or diamonds ; to others, again, gold enamelled rings. To 
the inferior gentlewomen, good marketing purses, baskets, 
laces, pins, or caps will suffice. It all depends upon 
their position. And thus, by your generosity and liberality, 
you will come to be had in the love, grace, and esteem of 
all. And if you ask me. How are you to give away the 
thing you have not ? I reply, So long as you shall con- 
tinue to serve me faithfully, so long shall you want for 
notliing. And as soon as your body and your members 
shall be firm and set, I will then have you to engage in 
feats, by courtesy, of arms. And whatever enterprise I 



of Utile Jehan de Saintre. 75" 

may send you on, you are to go through with it. And 
that you may be still further advanced, and yet more in 
tlie graces of my Lord, and of Madame, and of all ; and 
as a foundation to all your prosperity, here are, in this 
purse, four hundred ecus, of which one hundred will be 
for a nice little mare, or a pretty horse, which, first of all, 
you are to present to Madame, thanking her for the honour 
that my Lord did you, at her request. And another 
hundred will go to make over-coats, in livery, for their 
valets-de-chambre. They are to be all of one cloth and 
colour, and with your own device. And, to please them, 
you had better wear one yourself, on All-Saints next. And 
when the feast of Christmas has come about, you will have 
made for each of the other officers a robe of the same 
device, but of another coloured cloth. And the remaining 
ecus are to be laid out in purchases for the rest — ladies, 
gentlewomen, and others — and wKich you are to have ready 
for Xew Year's Day. You will also give coats to the 
Kings-at-arms, the heralds, trumpets, and minstrels. 
And now, as it is time to part, my heart's content and joy, 
niy most faithful servant, kiss me, and that God may keep 

you!" 

The Author. 
Jehan de Saintre, who now clearly saw all that Madame 
had done for him, and was yet willing to do for him, young 
as he was, threw himself on his knees, most humbly 
thanking her, saying, '' Ah, my most redoubted Lady, 
perfect in perfection ; in whom is every virtue, honour, 
worth ; alas, how am I ever to repay you the thousandeth 
part of all I owe you. However, my very trusty Lady, 
w^hat I can do, I will do ; and God, who knows my heart, 
and my heart's desire, he it is who will acquit me of the 
rest." Then Madame made him rise, and then kissed him, 
wishing him adieu. 



^6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER XYI. 

How the little Saintre provided himself with horses, as Madame had 
.. desired him ; and how, when he came to thank her, she ad- 
monished him, and taught him how he was to conduct himself, as 
well at Court as in war, and in all other positions. 

The Author. 

AND when the morning was come, and mass was over, 
Jehan de Saintre went in quest of the grooms and 
farriers of the King's and Queen's stables, and he had 
them to breakfast in his room. And presently he said to 
them, '' I have eighty or a hundred ecus by me, and I have 
half a mind to lay them out on a handsome and a service- 
able sort of a mare, if I could but find one." 

Then said they, " Nothing easier." And to oblige him, 
they despatched the liveliest and most knowing of the 
stable boys, telling them to go the round of the marts, and 
bring them word again, where the likeliest horses were 
then standing. Which, when they had done, one that 
they went to see was bought. And it he made a present 
of to the Queen, telling her : " My sovereign Lady, let me 
first present to you my humble duty, and then grant me, 
that I may be permitted to thank you for tlie obligations 
aiid the honours which, you yourself first, and the King 
after, at your request, have conferred upon me. And, as 
some little acknowledgement on my part of the same, will 
you be pleased, Madame, to step to the window and you 
will there see a little mare which I should like to give 
you ; entreating you to take it as it is meant ; for, you 
know — little merchant, little pacTcet^ 

At first the Queen, though gently, excused herself. 
However, at length, being entreated but simply to look at 
it, she consented. And when she had gone to the window, 
and seen what a nice and pretty little thing it was, and 
how it was all covered with a furniture of silk, and of 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 77 

her own colours and devices, she agreed to accept it. And 

as soon as he was gone, the Queen began to say all sorts of 

things to his advantage, to those around her, and to Madame 

among the rest ; who, however, seemed to pay but little 

heed to what was going on ; albeit, in her heart, she was 

enchanted to see how handsomely he was spoken of. And 

when Christmas came, all the valets-de-chambre, as well 

as the officers, King's-at-arms, trumpeters, and minstrels, 

had their clothes, and the Ladies their New Year's gifts. 

And Madame chose for hers, one of the plainest of the 

whole, a ruby. And so, throughout the entire Court and 

kingdom his fame began to be blazed abroad ; not, however, 

without the malice and the heartburnings of many, as it will 

ever be in Courts. However, so incessantly was his praise 

the theme of the wise and good, that every day he 

increased more and more in the good graces of the King 

and Queen; and every day brought with it some new 

friend, or some new gratification on the part of the King. 

Nor yet, for any one thing that befell him, did he ever 

allow either petulance or haughtiness to escape him ; but, 

even forced himself to be condescending to those whom, at 

heart, he well knew to be his concealed enemies. And 

in this manner passed away some three or four years. At 

length, Madame, who clearly saw, and followed all that 

was going on, thought, one day, that she would like to 

speak to him, so she took her pin, and made her signal, to 

which he replied. And when they were in the meadow 

together, she said to him, "My only friend, praise be to 

God, there is neither King, Queen, Lord^ Lady, nor 

Gentlewoman ; man nor woman, high nor low, who is not 

at strife who most or best can praise you ; and all this, 

because you have shown yourself to be, and are, humble, 

gracious, courteous, affable ; and besides, by your liberality, 

is yet everything more blazed abroad. And so I have to 

pray and beseech of you, that, without running into any idle, 



78 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

or uncalled for expense, and which will redound rather 
to your shame than to your credit — to your damage than 
advantage — .your gratuities will be judiciously distributed, 
seeing such are the returns that come of them. For, first, 
you see, it will impart unto your name an imperishable 
glory. Next, it will confirm you in the love of all, and 
gain you friends on every side. It is the secret and the 
key to all advancement ; it quenches all the fires and heats 
of strife, and is the only path to safety ; for, of the enemy, 
it will make a friend. And, for this reason, my friend, I 
enjoin it to you. And if it so be God's good pleasure 
that your circumstances will permit of it, let your days 
be dedicated to feats of arms. And whether you shall be 
employed in the service of great Lords, or Princes; or, 
contrary, they shall be serviceable to you ; even let it be 
your end, to increase in the love of God, and to gain to 
yourself allies. And however much fortune may stand 
your friend, put not that faith in her immutability, but 
that you shall remember the words of Alanus, in Articla- 
diano, where he says : — 

Tempore felici multi inveniuntur amici. 
Cum fortuna perit, iiullus amicus erit. 

That is to say, my friend, that, " Let but fortune once 
take any man by the hand, and set him up among men, 
and incontinent will he be blessed with friends enough, 
and to spare. But let her turn her back upon him, and 
sorry a one will he find." And, for this reason, he is 
worse than a fool who puts his trust in her. 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 79 



CHAPTER XVII. 

How the Lady advised the little Saintre to read books and romances, 
so as to be acquainted with the manners and the achievements of 
the nobles of the olden time. 

The Lady. 

IFAETHER wish and pray of you, that you will often 
make it your pastime to read delightful chronicles ; but 
above all, the marvellous and authentic means by which 
the Romans acquired for themselves the sovereignty of the 
world. Read Titus Livius, or Berosus. When you want 
to know about the twelve Caesars, read Suetoniics ; and 
about the conspiracy of Catiline, read Sallustius. If you 
would like to hear about the cruel war of Pompey, and 
also of the decisive battle wherein the said Pompey was 
overthrown, read Luean. And if you want to know about 
the kings of Egypt, read Macrohius ; if about the Trojans, 
Dares Phrigius, If you would like to know about the 
diversity of languages, read Arnobius ; or about the Jews 
and the destruction of Jerusalem, JosepTius. And if you 
want the relations about Africa, read Victor. But Pom- 
peius Trogus, according to Valerius, is the one who has 
written most fully of times preceding his own; for he 
treats of the origin, as of the locality of all countries. 

The Lady. 

And now, I will forbear to speak of ancient history, to 

which, I do beg and pray that you will, of your own 

accord, devote and turn your attention. You cannot 

better occupy your time. It will instil into your breast 

the seeds of every noble and illustrious aspiration ; as 

says the poet, — 

Ut ver dat flores; flos fructum, fructus odorem. 
Sic studium mores, mos sensum, sensus honorem. 

That is to say, my friend, '^As the springtime brings 



8o The History and pleasant Chronicle 

the flower ; the flower, fruit ; the fruit, odour ; so study 
brings knowledge ; knowledge, tact ; tact, consideration." 
And so it will come, that by reading and retaining in your 
memory noble histories, incidents, passages, you will arrive 
to attain to the never-ending joys of Paradise ; wealth in 
arms, wealth in understanding, wealth in riches. Live 
tranquilly and honourably. And when your Lord, or any 
other, shall ask you honestly for your advice, let it be like 
to that of Ciaudian, the poet, when he counselled the 
Emperor Honorius ; for said he to him, — 

Te patrem, civemque creras, tu consule cunctis. 
Non tibi, nee tua te moveant, sed publica vota. 

That is to say, " As father and as friend, let all you do be 
wisely done. Support your people. Let self ever be the 
last consideration. Love God, and the commonwealth." 
For this was the manner of the old Eomans; by this 
means they mastered the world, and gave the laws, which, 
to this day, are in ure among us. And on this head says 
St. Augustin, in the fourth book of his City of God, and 
in the twelfth chapter, out of Sallust recalling the words 
of Cato, where he says — 

The things which make us, Eomans, so powerful, are our indefa- 
tiguableness, and that everything is done upon deliberation, and by 
consultation. 

And hence, my friend, I press upon you^ that the matters 
of your Lord, or of anybody else who may confide in you, 
be faithfully and secretly kept. For these are things 
which will mightily effect your honour, one way or 
another. 

And now, my friend, 1 have said enough to you, for 
this time ; and I pray God, that all, or the greater part, it 
will be in your power to attend to." 



of little JeJian de Saintre, 8i 



CHAPTER XYIII. 

How the little Saintre threw himself on his knees before Madame 
and thanked her, and how the King and Queen gave him money 
to set him up. And how, at length, Madame told him that he 
was to have a bracelet, enamelled, and of her device, for the first 
of May, and that he was to wear it for an entire year, and to 
defend it in the lists against one ELnight or other. 

The Authok. 

AND when Madame had made an end of what she had 
to say, Jelian de Saintre fell on his knees, and humbly 
thanked her, saying, " My ever gentle lady ; her, of all 
the world w^hose influence is most upon, and sweetest 
unto me ; with all the acknowledgment I am able, I thank 
you." Then, as it was growing late, she kissed him, and 
bid him to be off, saying, " Off with you ; I do not know 
what it is you mean. Leave the rest to me." 

The Author. 
In the morning, as soon as it was light, Saintre arose ; 
and when he had heard mass, he made such haste, that he 
was the first in the robing-room. And in a little time, 
the other Knights and Squires began to appear. And 
when the King came to mass and saw Saintre so well and 
handsomely arrayed, he called to the Lord dTvry, and 
said to him, "Or I am much mistaken, this Saintr6 will, 
one day, be somebody. But how comes it, he manages 
to be always so nicely dressed ?" " Sir," said the Lord 
d'lvry, "I have heard that it is his mother who pro- 
vides everything for him ; but, I fancy, it is done with 
the consent of the father, who allows her the credit of it." 

The Author. 
On hearing this, the King stopped short, and thought 
with himself, how he w^ould do something for him. And, 
as soon as he was again in his chamber, he sent for his 

G 



82 The History and pleasant Ohronicle 

treasurer, and desired that Saintre was to have five 
hundred ecus. And when the Queen heard of it, she had 
him given three hundred, and a piece of damask. And 
such was the grace in which Saintre was held by King 
and Queen, that there was not a Squire in the Court 
stood higher in their estimation than he. And all this 
was owing to the solicitousness of Madame, who for seven 
years had loved him. And when he was in his twentieth 
to his twenty-first year ; and in which he received many 
kindnesses from the King ; of the other times when Madame 
met him, I will skip ; for it would be too long to rehearse. 

The Author again. 

And when Saintre was of the age that I have said, 
Madame, whose only imagination was how to make him 
all he should be, and to be heard of, thought with herself, 
Surely he is now big enough, and has spirit enough, to 
make himself heard of in the world. And when they 
were together, in the shade, and they had told to each other 
all their hearts, Madame said to him, '^Ever dearest 
friend, joy of my soul, seeing that, through God's grace, 
you are at length confirmed in the good opinion of my 
lord, the King; of madame, the Queen, and indeed, for 
that matter, of everybody else ; I have bethought me, you 
are now man enough to do something in the way of arms ; 
so that, as well in this realm as beyond, you may be 
spoken of; and, to this end, I wish you, this first coming 
day of May, to wear, for my sake, a bracelet of enamelled 
gold, with our old devices ; and it is to be set with six 
fair diamonds, six fair rubies, and six large and handsome 
pearls, of four or five carats, and all which you will find 
in a bag, enclosed in this handkerchief; and there are 
also in it two thousand ecus, to help to set you out, and 
to go towards the expenses of your voyage and residence 
abroad. For the remainder, be under no sort of appre- 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 83 

henslon. I will so manage it, my Lord, Madame ; and 
my Lords, my fair Uncles, of Anjou, Berry, and Bour- 
e^oyne, with the other princes of our blood, one and all 
shall aid you ; and even supposing that they do not, as 
lono* as ten thousand ecus will hold out, don't you be 
making yourself uneasy." 

The Author. 

And when Saintre perceived the sacrifices which 
Madame was willing to make for his sake, and her 
anxiety for his advancement, and the infinite love she 
bare to him, such was his amazement and delight^ he could 
not find a word to return. However, he flung himself 
upon his knees, and, as well as he could, he thanked her. 
Then Madame, who had not, by any means, the same 
difficulty in expressing herself, said, " My friend, I, who 
from among all others selected you to be my servant, have 
now to require, that, from this day forth, you will away 
with all anxiety, and take to you but one thought — to 
live joyously, and to be of good cheer. Of gold, silver, 
furniture, to set you up, now, at the commencement, I 
will provide you sufficient. And when your bracelet 
shall be mounted, you will come here to me, the evening 
before the first day of May, which will be shortly, and I 
will, for the first time, attach it to your arm ; and, from 
the following day, you are to wear it for a year. And if, 
within that time, you have not met with Knight, or 
Squire, of name and renown, withouten soil or reproach, 
who, to deliver you from your vow, shall have had the 
better of you on horse, or on foot, it is to be yours. And 
he must also have the better of you on foot, after, sup- 
posing him to have won it from you with the lance. And 
after this manner are the arms to be. First, on horseback, 
in full tilt, one against the other ; in war-saddles, and in 
complete harness, till one or other shall have fairly broken 



84 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

his lance. That is to say, between half a foot from the 
spear's point, and one foot above the grip. And to the 
one of you who shall have the first broken it, his com- 
panion, while still on his horse, and in the presence of the 
judge, shall present a diamond of the value of three hun- 
dred ecus, or above, which he is to give to his lovely 
Lady. And on the following day, should God have pre- 
served you from hurt, as from all craven-heartedness ; or, 
if not, the eighth day, at latest, at the hour appointed by 
the judge, you will again combat, but on foot, one against 
the other, with battle-axes only ; and this is to continue, 
till one or other of you be thrown from his legs, or have 
lost his axe from both his hands. And if at the end 
of these assaults of arms it is your companion who comes 
off the victor, I will and require that, there and then, 
you present him with the bracelet. But if, with God's 
permission, it is you that have the better, he is to get off 
simply with the loss of the axe which he then shall have 
in his hand ; and, for one day only, of his armour. 

" Now, my friend, albeit you are but young, and neither 
large nor strongly built ; for all that, be not you afraid of 
any one, for often it will happen that the weak will have 
the better, in the fight, of the strong, the few of the many ; 
let but God be for them. For men, indeed, it is who 
fight, but it is God that giveth the victory^ and to whom 
he will ; and, for this reason, seek, if to a happy issue you 
would look, for the counsel, aid, and help of God. But, 
should fortune prove to be your foe, which, God defend, 
do not on that account allow yourself to be cast down ; 1 
shall ever be what I was to you ; nay, I will even love 
you more dearly than before ; for, according to the laws 
of chivalry and of honour, double praise and double cour- 
tesy is ever to be the meed of the less fortunate. So that, 
whichever way it goes, you cannot come off but with 
success. All I have to hope is, that God will keep you 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 85 

from all faint-lieartedness ; whicli he will, if, from your 
heart, you put your trust in him. And I would rather 
prefer you to have to do with some one already known 
than a young person like yourself. And in order to 
ensure this, before they can have seen you, I wish and 
require, that, one month sooner than you may be ready 
to set out, you will send a king or herald-at-arms, first, to 
the court of the Kino^ of Arrao-on ; next to that of the 
King of Navarre, for these are the most considerable of the 
Kings of Spain. He will after go to the Court of the King 
of Castille, and then to that of Portugal. These are, all 
four, Christian Kings. And if at any of these Courts, he 
shall find Knight, such as I speak of, or Squire, who will 
seriously undertake to release you from your engagement, 
then is the King to meet you, on his return, with an 
undertakinof to that effect, o^iven under his hand and seal. 
And if Grod will but be all, or even in part, for you, dear 
friend and heart, you will be a famous Squire ; and, 
heaven knows how of my Lord ; and madame, the Queen ; 
and of all noble men and women you will be loved ; the 
very thought of which should brace you up to overthrow 
a giant. And so, my friend, to conclude, be valiant ; and 
in all your doings have recourse to God ; seek his counsel 
and his aid, and never shall you have call for any other. 
And now I must break off; this is all I can say to you at 
present." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

How the little Saintre thanked Madame, and then had the bracelet 
made, as she had desh'ed him ; and after, how he came and 
showed it to her, at which she was dehghted. 

The Author. 

THEN Saintre dropped on his knees, and said, " Ever 
redoubted Lady, my deity below, my sovereign 
friend ; as humbly as I am able, as I can find words to 



86 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

express myself; for all tliis I thank you. And as for the 
arms that you have laid upon me, 'fore God ; my lord, 
St. Michael, the angel, never, after your grace and your 
love, was there anything on this earth I more passionately 
longed for. Depend upon it, with God's grace, you shall 
hear such a tale of me as you, my Lords, and every one 
will be contented with." Then he wished her good bye ; 
and when she had passionately kissed him, ten, fifteen or 
twenty times, she said, " May God be with you !" 

The Author. 
" And in turning over this new project Saintre spent 
the night. And w^hen it was day, and he had heard 
mass, he sent for Gilbert Lorin, jeweller to the King, who 
was well known, as to be trusted, and said to him, 
" Gilbert, my friend, I want a bracelet of gold, enamelled 
after my own colours and device, and it is to be set, on 
either side, with two diamonds, six rubies, and six pearls ; 
and here they are." And when Gilbert had looked at them, 
he said, " They are of the finest." And, to be short, in 
two days the bracelet was made. And when next Saintre 
was in the company with Madame, he rubbed his right 
eye, which was the signal they had between them, to 
which Madame replied with her pin. And when they 
were together in the evening, in the meadow, to arrange, 
Saintre showed her the bracelet, by the light of the moon ; 
but as she could not see it distinctly, Madame said to 
him, '' I will see it by torchlight, and also to-morrow. 
You shall have it back to-morrow night, when we will be 
here again, and entertain one another to our hearts' con- 
tent. 



of little Jelian de Saintre, 87 



CHAPTER XX. 

How the Lady instructed the httle Saintre, that he should announce 
his intention, through an Herald-at-arnis. — How the best dancer, 
whether Squire or Lady, should have a suitable prize, and how he 
was to put his bracelet on his arm. — After, how Saintre gave a 
banquet to ail the Lords and Ladies. — And how, at night, he 
returned to the meadow, to speak with the Lady, w^ho told him, 
he should publish his Letter-at-arms in the Courts of the four 
Kings. 

AKD when Madame, on the following day, had ex-' 
amined the rich and beautiful jewel, she was 
enchanted ; so she immediately made her signal to 
Saintre, to which Saintre at once rejoined. And when 
they were together, Madame said to him, " My friend, 
here, take your bracelet ; so handsome is it, I hardly fancy 
anything could be more so. What I wanted to say to you 
is this : it came into my head, when at dinner, that, as 
to-morrow will be the day before the first of May, you 
should give a grand supper to a number of the Knights, 
Ladies, Gentlewomen of the Court, and others ; at which, 
however, I am not to be, though you will invite me. 
And that . your enterprise may be more appropriately in- 
augurated, by the King-at-arms, or the Herald, you will 
have it cried, That the Lady or the Gentlewoman, Knight 
or Squire, then present, who should be adjudged to dance 
the best, or to sing the best, should have, the Lady or 
Gentlewoman, a fair diamond ; the Knight or Squire, a fair 
ruby. And you will have, all ready, a grand and splendid 
banquet, at which will be seized entremets, and dishes of 
every kind. ^^^ Then you will have the peacock brought 
in ; and then the Lords and Ladies, Gentlewomen, Knights, 
and Squires shall make their vows ; and when they have 
been made, then you will vow to the Ladies, to the pea- 
cock, to your Lady elect, or to be elected, that, to-morrow, 
the firsi day coming of May, you would fasten the bracelet, 



88 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

which you will then show them, on your left arm, and 
that you will wear it there for a whole year : that is, 
always provided you do not meet with Knight, or Squire, 
of name and reputation, who is to take it from you, as I 
told you ; and also, provided always it be the King's good 
pleasure to allow the same. And when you shall have 
done all this, and reconducted the Ladies to their chamber, 
you will then come to me, and bring the bracelet with 
you, so that I may be the first to fasten it on you." 

'' Madame," said Saintre, '' may God, the giver of every 
earthly good, return all this to you, and give to me the 
grace to requite the same ; for other thought, or desire, 
this day, have I none." Then Madame, as was her cus- 
tom, gave him his dismissal. 

The Author. 

The following day, which was the last of April, as soon 
as it was light, Saintre was busy getting together cooks, 
and viands of all sorts. In a word, the banquet and the 
supper were prepared, as Madame had suggested. Then 
he invited Lords, Ladies, Gentlewomen, Knights, Squires, 
citizens and their wives of Paris ; with a quantity of 
others. And when the dances, supper, and the banquet 
were over, and Saintre, with the rest, had seen the ladies 
home ; and the King and Queen had taken the parting 
cup ; and, in fact, all were gone, Saintre, as Madame had 
desired him, went to the meadow, and in a little time 
Madame came to him. And then, for the first time, she 
put the bracelet on his left arm; but, inasmuch as it 
was late, and it was time to part, she hardly remained a 
moment. However, in fastening it on, she said, " It is my 
prayer to God, and to our Lady, that from the day and 
the hour when you are to leave me, wherever it may be 
your fate to be called, to the day of your return, all praise 
and honour may be yours. And, that this may be, I now 



oj little Jehan de Saintre, 89 

vow to them, that, so many Fridays and Saturdays as you 
shall be abroad, so many Fridays and Saturdays shall not 
linen touch my naked flesh." 

" Ha, Madame," said he, '^and what have I ever done 
for you, that such a Lady should make any such vow for 
me r 

^' Yes, my friend," said she, " you have done enough ; 
for are you not the man I love ? And I think you cannot 
do better than, as soon as you can, having first obtained 
the permission and free consent of my Lord, to despatch 
your letters to the four Courts of the four aforesaid Kings, 
by an herald, or batchelor-at-arms, who will meet you, on 
his way back, on the road." And with these words, 
Madame allowed him to take his leave. And then with 
breaking hearts, and tears streaming from the eyes of each, 
they parted from one another. 



CHAPTER XXT. 

How the little Saintre went to the King and Queen, to break to them 
his Letter-at-arms, and obtain their permission to send it ; which 
the King consented to, though much against his will. 

The Author again. 

THE following day, which was the first day of May, 
Saintre appeared in a new suit, as did all his people, 
and the bracelet was on his arm. Then, having ordered a 
mass of the Holy Spirit to be said, as soon as he had heard 
it, he got together all his friends, as Madame had desired 
him. And all with one heart, they went in a body to the 
King ; many of them protesting they would be with him 
in his voyage. And when the King, who, on the occasion, 
was accompanied by his brothers, and others of his blood, 
came out of his chamber ; Saintre, with his friends, threw 
themselves on their knees before him. Then he began 
gracefully to enlarge himself, and said, " Our sovereign 



go The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Lord, it is usual with those who are nobly born, to seek to 
acquire unto themselves renown, by the right noble 
science of arms, and in divers Avays. I, among others, 
being one of these aspirants, yesterday evening, at a little 
banquet, where were present these, my most redoubted 
Lords and Ladies, Knights and Squires now about you ; 
with sundry others, made a vow, that I would, this 
morning, put on my left arm this bracelet which you 
see, to be only removed under the conditions which, if 
you will be pleased to look on this paper, you will per- 
ceive." 

Then the King took the challenge, and had it read 
aloud before him ; bift it was long before he would give 
him any answer, turning over in his mind, as well the riski- 
ness of the arms as the tenderness of Saintre, and the great 
affection he had for him. And when Saintre saw, by the 
time it was coming, the misgivings of the King, he began 
to be fearful of a refusal ; so he said to him, imploringly, 
^' Sir, it is the first request of the sort I ever made to 
you ; for the love of God let it be granted to me !" Then 
my Lords, his brothers, and all the company, seeing how 
passionately his heart was set on it, all supplicating for 
him together with one voice ; at length he consented. 
Then the King went to mass ; and Saintre, after he 
had thanked him, seeing the Queen to be approaching 
with all her train, went to meet her. Then, when on his 
knees, he said, '' Our sovereign Lady, the King has been 
pleased to grant me permission to proceed with my pro- 
posed passage of arms, as this, my bracelet requires ; with 
the assistance of God, of our Lady ; and of my Lord, 
Saint Michael the angel ; and according as the tenour of 
my cartel runs. So, I have to entreat of you, my 
sovereign Lady, that your consent I may also have." 

" And what, my friend," said the Queen, '' have you, at 
your years, to do with arms ; who put this into your head ?" 



of little Jehan de Sai7itre. 91 

"Madame," said he, '^ God and a thirst of honour have 
set me on." 

^' Then," said the Queen, "If so be they set you on, I 
sincerely trust and pray they will also bring you off with 
credit." 

Then said several to Madame, " Madame have the 
letters read, so that you can understand their nature. We 
can hear them after mass." During this Madame came 
forward, looking on him wondrous pleased, as also were 
the rest, to see what was going on. Then the Queen said 
to him, " Saintre, seeing my Lord has thought proper to 
be content ; it is meet that I should be so likewise. So I 
pray to God, to our Lady and to my Lord, Saint John, since 
you are determined to go, that all may redound to your 
honour and advantage." Then the Queen went to hear mass, 
and on coming back, she called lor the challenge, wanting 
to hear it. And when she had heard it, she said, " Alas, 
this young fellow, who is little better than a child, how 
can he ever fancy himself equal to such an undertaking ? 
it must come from a marvellous spirit and ambition. If 
he return, with God's permission, sound and safe, there is 
nothing that he may not, and will not attempt." And 
when the Queen had said this, she went to table, to dinner. 



CHAPTEK XXII. 

How the little Saintre entered triumphantly into the lists, and of his 
noble equipment. — And how he carried himself so valiantly, that 
he was honoured and applauded of all. 

The Author. 

AND as soon as the tables were removed, the King, the 
Queen, and the Ladies, and all the company with- 
drew to the balconies, to see the justings, which were 
about to begin. Then came Saintre upon his war-horse, 



92 The History and pleasant Chronicle. 

covered with a caparison of white damask, all powdered 
with jleur-de-lys^ and bearing for his device, Forget me 
7iever. Next began the tiltings, as well within as without 
the barrier ; which, to be brief, I shall omit to speak of, 
as also the names, saving only that of Saintre, who 
shivered lances, drove one of his opponents to the ground, 
right over the crupper of his saddle ; as did he two others, 
horses and all ; and of all the combatants he was the last 
to unlace his helmet, or to quit his seat. If Madame was 
content, you need not ask. And indeed, so were the King, 
the Queen, and all the Court ; each one vieing with the 
other, who loudest could extol his handsome justing. 
And for this, his maiden essay, he had a magnificent 
diamond, which he gave to Madame, 

The Author. 
The next day he appeared again in the lists; capa- 
risoned, he and his horse, with new furniture, of green 
satin, sowed with pansies. What need I say more ? he 
acquitted himself so admirably that it was the marvel of 
all. But the King, considering how well he had already 
done, and to cut off all chance of accidents, forbad him to 
take any farther part, and so he did not again enter the 
lists. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

How Saintre came to the meadow to speak with Madame, and how 
he retailed to her, point by point, how he was equipped ; what 
officers and parties he had provided to accompany him on his 
voyage. — And how the Lady wanted to know about his colours 
and his arms ; and how they took leave of one another, 'mid 
piteous tears and sighs. 

The Authok again. 

AND when the feast was past, Saintre set about collecting 
powerful chargers, and also beating up Knights and 
Squires, his friends and kinsmen ; Kings-at-arms, Heralds, 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 93 

Trumpets, Minstrels, and two drummers ; as also tlie pre- 
paration of robes, embroidery, harness, trappings, feathers, 
and other things necessary ; so that he could speedily set 
out on his voyage, and accomplish his arms. And when 
all things were in readiness, he made his signal to 
Madame. And when they were in the meadow, in the 
evening, together, he told her how everything had been 
done and ordered ; how he had three Knights, Such an 
One, Such an One, and Such an One, with xili horses ; and 
IX Squires with xxill horses ; a chaplain with two horses ; 
the Anjou King-at-arms with two horses; the Heralds, 
Touraine and Lusignan, with four horses ; four trimipets 
with six horses ; two drummers with two horses, together 
with four magnificent and powerful chargers, mounted by 
four little pages, and follovv^ed by two grooms, on horseback, 
to have the care of them. Besides these, how he had two 
cooks with three horses ; a farrier, and an amourer, with 
four horses ; eight sumpter horses — four for himself and four 
for his people — beside twelve varlets on horseback, to 
wait on him when he halted, w4th a steward who had 
three horses. In all, ninety horses, and all mounted with 
her colours, and with her device. But all this he told 
her somewhat hesitatingly, as though he feared it were a 
greater company than it befitted him to have at once de- 
pendent on him. 

The Author. 

And when Madame, who had been listening to him with 

the intensest delight, perceived by his manner that he was 
not at his ease, and was in doubt as to whether he had not 
engaged for more than he would be able to make good, she 
said to him, "My friend, I do not think you possibly 
could have managed better than you have done. And as 
for the expense, let not that trouble you, for I hope that 
my Lord, Madame, and my Lords, fair Uncles, especially, 
will contribute to your assistance. And even if they do 



94 Th^ History and pleasant Chronicle 

not, for* the outlay of one year, whatever it may be, your 
honour shall not be compromised. And, my friend, about 
your clothes ?" 

" Madame, I have three suits, all sufficiently the thing. 
One is crimson damask, richly trimmed with silver braid, 
and lined with sable martin ; and I have another of blue 
satin, and * * * ; and I have a third of black damask, 
stitched with silver thread all studded with tufts, and set 
with ostrich feathers, — green, violet, and gray, which are 
your colours, bordered with white ermine, which is pow- 
dered with black tufts. And it is in this latter that I 
intend to appear on horseback in the lists ; that is, if it is 
your good pleasure. And every one who has seen them 
says they are magnificent, and a perfect sight to set eyes 
on. And, besides, I have another, and my coat-of-arms 
alike, in which I will enter the lists when I come to fight 
on foot ; it is also of crimson satin, all covered with golden 
tassels, and * * *." 

" And, my friend, how do you blazon ?" 

" Madame, my arms are de gueulles a une bande 
d^argent a qiiatre lambeaulx d'orj' 

" Hey, God," said Madame, " but that should be hand- 
some, too ! I should give anything to see them, if it was 
not for the way people would talk. But I know how I 
think it can be managed ; I will get Madame to ask you 
to show yourself to her." 

" As you will," said Saintre, " I am ready this moment, 
or as soon as you like ; and it seems to me the sooner the 
better. I dare say Lusignan, the herald, is already there ; 
and if by any chance he has succeeded, I should know of it, 
and meet him, as was arranged between us." 

They then agreed together that he was to set out on the 
fifteenth day, next following, of July ; and having come to 
this conclusion, they took leave of one another, mid 
piteous and burning sighs, and tears, and kisses. 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 95 



CHAPTER XXIY. 

How the Lady told the Queen, how sumptuously Saintre was set up 
in horses and equipage ; and how the said Queen desired Saintre 
to brinsr his horses into the court, so that she might see them, 
which he did, and how the King and Queen saw them, and com- 
mended them. 

The Author. 

THE following morning, whilst the Queen was dressing, 
Madame, who had by no means forgotten all the finery, 
said to the Queen carelessly, among other chat, " Madame, 
they say it is something incredible all the fine things 
Saintre has been getting, but I don't believe a word of it 
myself. However, Madame, if you chose, we could see 
them, we women among ourselves, and no more; for I 
hear, he wants to keep it all close. If you ask him, he 
will doubtless gratify you with pleasure." 

" But are you sure, fair Cousin," said the Queen, '' they 
are so fine ?". 

"Madame, certainly, as they tell me, for farther I 
cannot answer." Then said she to the Queen, " If we do 
not meet with a refusal we will see them, and know from 
him why he makes all this mystery of them. Desire him 
to bring his four chargers into the little court below, with 
all his furniture covered, which he can then unpack, and 
we can have the door barred to keep everybody out." 

'' Ha, by my faith," said the Queen, " it is a lucky 
thought ! As soon as we see him again remind me of it.'' 

Presently after the Queen was going to mass, and when 
in the robing-room Madame saw Saintre, who was there ; 
so, stepping forward, she said gently to the Queen, 
"Madame, there is Saintr^ now." Then the Queen 
desired Gruillaume de Lins, her Usher-at-arms, to call 
Saintre to her. And when he was come, the Queen said, 
" Saintre, as God is to prosper you, you must yield unto us 



96 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

somewhat ; we have much at heart. You must let -us see 
your chargers, with all their trappings on them : they tell 
us it is a perfect sight." 

'^ And, Madame," said he, " with all due submission to 
those who told you so, be it said, they are but sorry things, 
and no better than are becoming a poor companion like 
myself. I should be distressed, Madame, you should see 
anything of the sort." 

'' Even so, fair sir, whatever they are, we beg that you 
will have them brought by after dinner, into the court 
below ; and we will see that everybody is out of the way, 
and the door fast, and, if you like, the clothes can come 
covered, and when you have taken them out and all is 
ready, let us quietly know, and we will come." 

" Madame," said Saintr^, ^' since such is your pleasure, 
your lightest wish is my commandment." 

The Author. 

And as soon as the King and Queen had dined, and the 
tables were removed, Saintre sent for the clothes and the 
horses ; and when the doors were closed and the furniture 
was opened out, Saintre went to acquaint the Queen, as 
she had desired him. Then the Queen, not only anxious 
herself to see them, but edged on by Madame, could not 
refrain from telling the King that Saintre's horses were in 
the court below, 

^' And how," said the King, " are they so worth seeing 
as all that ?" 

"My Lord," said she, ^^you can see them if you 
choose." 

" Then I will," said the King. " Let them bring the 
parting cup." 

'' Ah, my Lord," said the Queen, '* but let as few as 
possible be with us." 

And after the grace cup the King and Queen arose, and, 



of little Jehan de SaintrL 97 

from the galleries took a look at the chargers, all covered 
with their furniture, and which seemed to them to be 
everything that had been promised. Then all the ladies 
and gentlemen began to praise Saintr^, and to offer up 
their vows and prayers that God would vouchsafe to be 
with him, and to bring him back with honour. And 
when the King was going away he called Saintre to him, 
and questioned him about sundry matters ; and presently- 
leaving him, he went into his dressing-room, and taking 
out, in three sacks, three thousand ecus, he sent them to 
him by Jehan de Scuffle, his valet-de-chambre, to help 
towards the expenses of his voyage. And when the 
Queen heard that the King had given him three thousand 
ecus, she was delighted. So she sent for Madame, and 
said to her, " Fair Cousin, I am right well pleased ; the 
King has given Saintre three thousand ecus; I do not 
see how I can well offer him less than a thousand ; and I 
do think you might give him two or three hundred your- 
self." 

'' Ah, Madame," said Madame to the Queen, " now you 
are going to be generous with other people's money ;" so 
that the Queen was almost obliged to force her to part 
with it. And when my Lords of Anjou, of Berry, and 
Bourgoyne came to know what the King had done, they 
each gave him a thousand. And so he had seven thousand, 
over and above the presents that he received from the 
other Lords. And, in verity, he neither asked nor looked 
for anything, and for which he was highly commended ; 
every one saying, " Surely we ought to do what we can for 
a young squire like this, who is little more than a lad, and 
who, out of sheer spirit, is setting out on such an expedi- 
tion; surely we ought to back him up, and encourage 
him." 



H 



98 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER XXV. 

How Saintre, as soon as lie was ready to set out, came to ask the 
King for permission to depart, to accomplish his enterprise ; which 
thing the King allowed to, though sorry to see him go. 

The Author. 

AND when the term for his departure was at hand, 
eight or ten days before, Saintre, accompanied by all 
his three Knights, his nine Squires, his Kings-at-arms, 
Heralds, and all the residue of his people ; he and they, 
accoutred in his livery, together with a number of other 
Lords, Knights, and Squires, his intimates, came ; and 
when they were all on their knees before the King, 
present my Lords of Anjou, Berry, and Bourgoyne, Saintre 
said, " Our sovereign Lord, your Grace has been already 
pleased to allow that I am to wear this bracelet, in accom- 
plishment of the engagements at arms, on horse and on 
foot, which in writing you have seen. And so I have 
come, most humbly entreating you, that it will be your 
farther good pleasure to grant me your permission that, 
the fifteenth day of July, I, with these gentlemen, my 
brothers and my friends, here present, and who of their 
courtesy are to accompany me, may God, our Lady, and 
my Lord, St. Michael, willing, set out and commence our 
voyage." 

The Author. 

To this the King, who already had, as has been stated, 
assented to his leaving, said, ^^How, Saintre, is it that you 
are so soon ready ?" 

" Sir," said he, " Yes." 

Then he said to him, " Saintre, you are come of noble 
blood, of a race of valiant men. God grant to you the 
grace to be like to them, as I have no doubt but you will, 
for you are giving us an early earnest. One thing mark ; 



of little Jehan de Saintr^, 99 

you must not be too sanguine in what you are going about, 
for you have, as yet, had no sort of experience in arms, 
and though you are but in your paces now, questionless, 
one day, you will arrive to be a master. And another thing 
bear in your memory ; whatever be your fortune, con- 
queror or conquered, be yourself the same ; carry yourself 
equally, and lose, if lose you must, with a good grace." 

Then the King told him he was well content he should 
go, for which Saintre most humbly thanked him. And 
when the King had retired, Saintre most respectfully did 
as much to the other Lords for the presents they had made 
him. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

How Saintre was in tlie meadow, to take leave of the Lady, who ad- 
monished him again of all he was to do. — And how, at last, they 
parted from one another ; not, however, without abundance of 
tears, as well on the one side as the other. 

The Author again. 

AND when the tenth, twelvth, and fourteenth days of 
the month were come, Madame, out of the sad and 
agonizing regrets which she had at the thoughts of parting, 
made him, every day, her signal with her pin, and which 
he acknowledged. And when they were in the meadow 
together, great were the tears and the sighs at the recollec- 
tion of in how little a time they were to separate. Then 
Madame said, " My only friend, friend more than I have 
words to tell, my Lord the King has given you three 
thousand ecus, Madame a thousand, my Lords, fair Uncles, 
each a thousand, which makes seven thousand, indepen- 
dently of what you got from the other lords ; and as one 
does not know what may happen, I will give you three 
thousand, making ten in all; and this, if there is no 
reckless or unnecessary waste, ought to be ample to meet 



lOO The History and pleasant Chronicle 

every legitimate call upon you for a considerable time to 
come. One thing I have to pray of you, and that is, that 
every day after mass, and whilst you are still on your 
knees, as soon as the priest shall have given you the bene- 
diction, which our Lord gave, with his own mouth, to 
Moses, as is written in the Bible, and which I told you of 
before, farther to confirm it to you, you will bid him add, 

Benedicat tibi Dominus, et custodiat te, ostendat faciem suam tibi, 
et misereatur tui. 

Convertat Dominus vidtum suum ad te, et det tibi pacem. 

And I also entreat of you that, when on the point of 
setting out to perform your arms, whether on foot or on 
horseback, you will, having first crossed yourself, repeat, 
from your heart, the following benediction : — 

Benedicat michi Dominus, et custodiat me. 

Ostendat michi faciem suam Dominus, et misereatur mei. 

Convertat Dominus vultum suum ad me, et det minchi pacem. 

And after this, step forth boldly, and do what you have to 
do manfully. Thus prepared, come what will, victory or 
defeat, it will alike be to your honour, and trust me, never 
will they fail you." And as she said this, the very tears 
of her heart started from her eyes, and as not another word 
could he or she utter, for a little they were each lost, as in 
a trance. 

The Author. 

And when Saintr^ had revolved with himself all the 
inestimable advantages and kindnesses which Madame had 
extended to him, so that of all lovers beneath the sun he 
was the most favoured, and when he had recalled how 
every day had been witness of some new proof of her 
attachment, some condescension, some grace, some gene- 
rous effusion, in the bitterness of his distress he said to her, 
^' Ha, my high and supreme goddess, nonpareille of woman- 
kind, you who should be comforting me in all the agony 
of such a separation from one who is my only thought, my 



of little Jehan de SaintrS. lOi 

only pleasure, and my sovereign weal ; alas, to see your 
griefj so like ray own, has so overwhelmed and unnerved 
me, that my very heart is like to rend in twain. I am 
sickened to the death, and I leave you but to die. 
Madame, God be with you !" and thus saying he turned 
to leave her. 

The Author. 

Madame, the fountain of whose anguish had well nigh 
now ceased to flow, hearing the words of Saintre, mingling 
her own with her tears and her sobbings, said, " Ha, my 
friend, come back if you will ; alas, as you well know, we 
women have tender hearts, and are compassionate to those 
we love. Also be under no sort of distress for me ; I am 
now collected, trusting that God will bring you again in 
double honour and in double joy. So, my very true 
friend, my ever-present thought, my heaven, my treasure, 
life of my life, and death of my death, be of good heart. 
Fret not yourself, for on my honour, for your sake I will 
pass my time cheerfully and resignedly ; and one thing 
remember, as you value my life, nothing must come to me 
when you are away ; write only to Madame, and let it be 
full, for through her I will hear everything, without any 
sort of risk. And now, my friend, let us seal this com- 
pact with a kiss." And now were kisses, thick and 
innumerable, given and taken on either side, all broken 
with tears and sobs and sighs ; and in this agonizing 
solace, and this melancholy joy, they continued, till mid- 
night, to their horror, struck, and they saw that needs was 
they must part. And as he was leaving, Madame, kissing 
him, put a beautiful and precious diamond ring upon his 
finger, and tearing herself from him^ . . . said only, ^' God 
be with you !" 



102 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER XXYII. 

How Saintre took his farewell of the King, the Queen, and the Ladies, 
to each of whom he gave a golden wand. — And how the Queen 

. asked, "If there was not one for her?" On which he gave her 
one, excusing himself, saying, "he had not thought she would 
condescend to care for such a trifle." 

The Author. 

THE following morning, being the fifteenth day of July, 
which was the one fixed for his departure, after mass, 
and that the priest had given Saintre his benediction, 
Saintr^ and all his company, arrayed in his livery, came 
to take their farewell of the King, who said to him, 
" Saintre, God be with you ; do your work well, and 
come back to us with honour. One thing I have already 
entreated of you ; I now do it again, and that is, if you 
lose, it will be done with a good grace ; and if you win, it 
shall be fairly and honourably." 

" Sir/' said he, " with God's grace you shall never have 
other report to hear of me." 

And when the good King had given him his hand, 
Saintre took his leave and went to the Queen, who said to 
him, " Hey, Saintr^, since you must go, we pray God the 
prize of arms may be yours, and we wish you all joy with, 
and welcome homeward from, your Lady." 

" Madame," said he, " as to the prize of arms, since you 
are pleased to wish me well, 1 wish it too ; but as for the 
Lady part of the matter, I have no other aspiration than to 
serve the King, and, Madame, yourself." 

With these words he took his leave of her, then hur- 
riedly, the same of Madame, who merely said to him, 
siorhing, '' You have already taken your farewell of me, go 
to the other Ladies and Gentlewomen." This he did, 
giving to each of them a golden cane, all covered with 
Forget-me-nots ', nor was there one dry eye in all the 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 103 

company, so dearly was he loved, and had he been loved 
of all. And when the Queen heard about the rods, how 
they were being given away, she sent for Saintr^ and said 
to him, laughing, " Ha, fair sir Saintre, are not we, fair 
Cousin here, and myself as much ladies as the rest, that we 
are to be passed over in this manner ?" 

" Ah ! Madame," said Saintr^, " 'fore Grod, I am not to 
blame ; I had not the presumption to suppose such Ladies 
would ever condescend to accept so light a gift from me." 

" But," said she, ^' we will from you, though it is what 
we would not do from all." 

Then he gave them the choice of those he had, though, 
indeed, they were all alike. Then they said to him, 
''Thank you, Saintre," and with these words Saintr^ 
took his leave. And when Madame saw him going, she 
could not refrain, but the tears would flow ; so, to excuse 
herself, she said to the Queen, "I never remember the 
scene or the parting yet could wring a tear from me on 
my own account. The only thing that ever troubles me 
or sets me oflf, is to see others affected." 

" And in truth, Madame," said the rest, "it needs no 
apology ; where is the breast of woman could forbear from 
tears to see this lad thus going from us upon so perilous an 
enterprise ; he who has been brought up among us from an 
infant, and whose company every day has been a source to 
us of entertainment and delight." 




104 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER XXYIIL 

How, after Saintre had taken his leave of the Barons, and Lords of 
the Court, he went away to dine with his companions ; and how, 
when at dinner, the Queen sent him a rich cloth of silver ; and 
several Lords subsidies and presents. — And how he had himself 
escorted, at his outset, by the heralds, trumpets, and musicians ; 
giving them a supper at the burgh of the Queen, where he lodged. 

The Author, upon the departure of Saintre. 

AND when Saintre had taken his farewell of the ladies 
at the Court he went to take the like of my said Lords, 
of eacli of whom he had a kindly word. And after this he 
returned, with all his company, to his hotel to dine. And 
when they were dining, the Queen sent him a magnificent 
roll of silver cloth ; my Lord of Anjou a splendid charger, 
with all his furniture ; my Lord of Berry a cloak, and five 
hundred martens' skins ; and my Lord of Bourgoyne fifty 
marks of plate ; and there was not one of those that 
brought them to whom he did not give a hundred ecus, 
out of his love and respect toward the Queen and the said 
Lords. And when they had all dined and the horses 
were saddled, and everything was packed and trussed, there 
were got together Knights, and Squires, as well of the 
Kino-'s Court as the Queen's, and of my said Lords, as his 
friends, and others, well nigh a thousand horsemen, all 
assembled to see him ofi*. And when it was time to go, he 
sent first his two couriers, his cooks, and his chaplain, 
with four trumpets, carrying his banners, with his arms ; 
next, his three heralds ; and, after them, his three Knights, 
and nine Squires, two and two abreast, and all their people 
after, all in his livery. Next came his five sumpter-horses, 
covered with cloths, on which were wrought his arms, and 
led by two footmen. Then came his drummers, and after 
his four war-horses, richly caparisoned in fine Florence 
taffeta, gray, and green, and violet, all broidered with his 



of little JeTian de Sahitre, 105 

device, in silver letters. And on each of their heads 
there was a vice of steel, in which were set a bunch of 
ostrich plumes, and among them silver bells ; and on 
them were four tiny graceful little pages, dressed in his 
device : from their arms hung silver tassels, and on their 
heads were caps with feathers, all of his colours. And 
after the war-horses came the two grooms, and then the 
smith ; after were the drums and the minstrels who came 
to see him oflF ; and after the minstrels came the bachelors ; 
next, the heralds of the Lords, then that of the King, and 
then the royal Kings-at-arms. Then came all the trum- 
pets, and clarions ; first, those of the Lords, then those of 
the King. And after the trumpets he came himself, 
arrayed in his device ; and, as his pages, his sleeves all 
glittering with silver tassels, and on his head a similar cap 
of feathers ; and he was on the noble charger which my 
Lord of Anjou had sent him. And he came surrounded 
by four Lords, two before and two behind ; then came the 
other Lords, Knights, and Squires, any way and as they 
could. And in all this state they conducted him from the 
Court in Paris, a good league from the town. And when 
it was time for them to turn, he called to him all the 
Kings-at-arms, heralds, batchelors, trumpets, minstrels, 
drummers, and other good fellows, and made them sup 
with him at the Queen's burgh, where, for that night, he 
lay, as did they all ; and in the morning he gave them 
fifty ecus. And now I will say no more about his de- 
parture, but will speak of his journey, and the return of 
Lusignan, the herald. 



^^^^^f^,%T5iv. 



io6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

How Saintre, being at Avignon, the Anjou King-at-arms brought 
him the seal, and the reply to his Letter-of-arms ; and told him 
all how he had spoken with Enguerrant, and pubhshed the Letter- 
of-arms, at which he was delighted. 

The Author. 

AND when Saintri had got to Avignon, through the 
noise of his arrival, the Anjou herald-at-arms got to 
know that it was Saintre ; and so, as he was coming from 
mass, he presented the said sealed letter to him. And 
when the little Saintre had fully read it, and considered 
it, the said Saintre immediately returned, in the face of 
everybody, to the church, devoutly to thank his God. 
Then he demanded of the King, before all the company, 
all the history of his delivery, and who it was that was to 
release him. 

Then said Lusignan, ^' I first got to Barcelona on the 
third day of June, late, so for that night 1 rested myself. 
In the morning, next day, after mass, I returned to my 
hotel, and put on your coat-of-arms, as I had a right to do ; 
and I placed the case, in which was your letter-of-arms, 
in my pocket ; then, by a varlet of the place, I had myself 
conducted to the Court of the King. And, as God's will 
would have it, as I got to the gate, I met a Knight, an 
exceedingly comely man, with all his people about him, 
named Sir Enguerrant de Servillon ; whom, in passing, I 
humbly saluted. And when he saw me clad in your coat- 
of-arms, all of a sudden, stopping, he called to me, saying, 
' Herald, who are you ? Whose coat-of-arms is that you 
have on ? What is your name ?' ' My Lord,' said I, ' in 
virtue of my office, I am King-at-arms of Anjou, Lor- 
raine and of Maine.' ' Then ' said he, * King-at-arms, you 
are welcome. I suppose you are come to our King's court 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 1 07 

on some affair of arms ; if so be, I must entreat of you to 
tell me the same.' ' My Lord/ said I, ' it is true. I have 
been sent on the part of a noble and renowned Squire, 
called Jehan de Saintrd, who, on the first day of May 
past, vowed, in the presence of many high and potent 
Dames, Gentlewomen ; Lords, Knights, Squires, in abun- 
dance ; and announced his determination to wear, on his 
left arm, a rich bracelet of gold, set with precious stones ; 
and this, for the space of a year, unless he should have 
found some Knight, or Squire, of name and reputation, 
without reproach, to deliver him, on horse and on foot, as 
this letter will show. And to this end, he is coming, first 
into this kingdom, to the Court of this most noble King, 
where he will remain an entire month, in the hope of his 
release by some Knight, or Squire, of the condition I spoke 
of. And if he does not find such here, he will then go^ 
in the like search to the Court of the King of Navarre, and 
next to that of the King of Portugal ; and he will remain 
one month in each, should he not first meet with his des- 
patch, as I have said.' ^ King-at-arms,' then said the 
Knight to me, ' I have to request that you will let me look 
at these letters ; promising you, on the faith of a noble 
Knight, that if the proposition is above board, and an 
honourable one ; and if it be the good pleasure of God ; of 
my Lord Saint Gregory ; and of my sovereign Lord, 
the King, I will be the man, who, to the best of my 
power, will satisfy him as to what he wants,' And when I 
saw his authoritative manner, his commanding appearance, 
and the train that was with him ; and when I thought on 
the faith he had pledged me, I came to the conclusion, 
that I had found the party I had been desired to look out 
for. So I took your letters out of my pocket, and gave 
them to him, and when he had read them at his leisure, 
he said to me, ' King-at-arms, come this way.' Then he 
turned back, and spoke with several Knights and Gentle- 



io8 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

men of the Court to whom he showed the letters. After 
that he said, ' King, come with me.' Then he took me 
by the hand, and led me towards the King, who was 
returning from mass. Then he and I, he holding me by 
the hand, knelt down, as did the rest. Then in his 
language, he said, ' My Lord, as I was leaving your 
palace, it so fortuned that I met Anjou King-at-arms, 
who here is ; and seeing him in his coat-of-arms, I pre- 
sently divined that it could not be without, cause, but 
must be for some affair of arms ; especially it happening 
in the Court of so mighty a Prince as yourself So I 
stopped him, and asked him, Whence he came, and why, 
in our King's Court, he was wearing his coat-of-arms, 
seeing you were in peace with all Christian princes ? He 
then answered me in terms which, if it is your pleasure 
to hear, I shall give you.' " 



CHAPTER XXX. 

How the Anjou King-at-arms told Saintre, that the King of Arragon 
had consented that Enguerrant should deliver him from his en- 
gagement ; and how he had given him a gracious reception ; at 
which Saintre and his companions were beyond expression de- 
lighted. 

The King-at-akms. 

^' A ND when he had done speaking, the King, who had 

JJl been looking hard at me, said, taking me by the 

hand, ' You are very welcome.' Then he told me, to 

let him hear what it was 1 had said to Sir Enguerrant de 

Servillon. Then I repeated to him, word for word, what 

you have already heard. ' And where are the letters ?' 

said the King. ' My Lord,' said Sir Enguerrant, ' here 

they are.' Then the King had them read. And when 

they were read, Sir Enguerrant said to him, ' Lord, 

seeing the right noble pre-eminences which mundane 



of little Jehan de SaintrS. 109 

tribute will procure to valiant breasts, by feats of arms, 
each one will vie, to the best of bis capability, and on every 
opportunity, to purchase for himself reputation, fame, 
honour ; whether in the more courteous combat of the list, 
or whether in the ruder strife of war ; as on all allowable 
occasions. And farther, seeing that the refusal of this 
adventure was first submitted to me ; and albeit I well 
know, that there are many in this company, and in your 
Court, not only as able as, but more able and sufficient than 
myself; nevertheless, Lord, as it in a manner fell to my 
part, as humbly as I can, and as I ought, I beg and 
entreat of you, that, if permission is to be given to any to 
accept this challenge, it may be to me,' " 

The King-at-aems. 

" And when the King- heard his request, like a 
wise Prince as he is, before giving him an answer, he 
withdrew, taking with him certain aged and experienced 
Lords, and Knights and Squires, then present. And 
when he had remained with them some little time, he 
called him before him, before everybody, and said, ' Sir 
Enguerrant, we have considered your humble and honour- 
able demand, which for the love and honour we bear you, 
as also out of respect to the engagement of the noble 
Squire, we grant you ; and appoint, for the day, the 
fifteenth from that of his arrival, if God shall spare you 
both till then. And in addition to this, we will be 
gratifying the Ladies.' And for this gracious reply of the 
King, Sir Enguerrant, and all his friends, most humbly 
thanked him ; as did I also, on your part. Then the 
King retired, and went to dinner, and Sir Enguerrant 
took me to his hotel ; and he sent for my horses, and had 
them stabled with his own ; then he made me dine with 
him ; and after dinner, he bid me take off* my coat-of- 
arms, and my doublet, and he gave me a rich and beauti- 



no The History and pleasant Chronicle 

ful cloak of blue figured velvet, and most richly trimmed 
in gold, and lined with marten, and which I have here in 
my trunk. And he made me stay with him that day, 
and the next, and had longer, would I have consented. 
And as soon as he had given me his acceptance, the 
heralds of the King came to treat me, and conduct me 
about the town. And when the letters were written, he 
brought me to take my leave of the King, who behaved 
most nobly to me ; and out of the love of our Lord the 
King, and also of you, he ordered me to have a cape of 
black figured velvet, lined with marten, and a hundred 
florins of Arragon. And as I was going away, he said to 
me most courteously, ' that I was tor emember him to you.' 
And of these promised arms, as I have heard from more 
than one, the Queen, with the Ladies and Gentlewomen, 
as also the Knights and Squires, with all the city and 
roundabout ; were in such delight, that the whole country 
was ringing at the thought ; and when I was taking leave 
of Sir Enguerrant, he said to me, ' You will remember me 
kindly to my brother, Jehan de Saintre, and tell him, 
that, God will, I shall be all ready against the day our 
King has appointed, and you will also commend me to all 
his people, and God be with you.' And as I was getting 
on my horse, he sent me forty florins of Arragon." 

The Author. 

And when Saintre and all his company heard his 
report, and all this good news, and how speedily he was to 
have his deliverance, their delight was unbounded ; and 
in a little it was spread everywhere, and the King 
and Queen had come to hear of it ; by which means 
Madame did too, as also the whole Court and country. 
Then began Ladies and Gentlewomen to fast, to make 
their vows, and prayers, and to go on pilgrimages ; so 
much was he loved of all. But, on hearing them. 



of little Jehan de Saintre. ill 

Saintre, like a good Christian, and one who looked to God 
for all his honour and for all his aid, returned at once to 
the church, and there, on his knees, with bared head and 
clasped hands, devoutly offered up his prayers and oblations 
to God, and our Lady, and after that he went to dinner. 



CHAPTEE XXXL 

How Saintre, being at Perpignan, the news came to the King of 
Arragon, who apjDointed him lodgings at Barcelona. — And after, 
how Enguerrant came out, a good league, from the town to meet 
him ; and how honourably he received liim ; and of the civiUties 
and discourse that passed between them. 

The Author. Of the entry into Barcelona. 

AND while all this was going on, and that Sir Enguer- 
rant was preparing himself, Saintre had arrived at the 
town of Perpignan. Then was the Kincr apprised of his 
coming/of his state, and of all the noble company he had witli 
him. Then the King and all the Lords saw, that clearly 
he must be somebody of consideration : and so he at once 
ordered an hotel to be got ready for him at Barcelona, and 
which was made over to his harbingers, two days before 
he arrived. And as he was making his entry, Sir En- 
guerrant, who, with a large following, together with many 
Lords, Knights, and Squires, had gone a league and 
more to meet him, was strangely taken back at two 
things ; the one, the extreme youthfulness of Saintre ; the 
other, the extraordinary pomp in which he and his people 
were coming, and which was the same in which they 
had left Paris. And when Sir EnOTerrant saw the 
boyishness of Saintre, he was aghasted to find that he had 
engaged himself to combat with a person who might be his 
own son. And so he kept looking hard at him, and wonder- 
ing within himself, how so young a man as he was could 
ever have dreamt of embarking himself in so perilous an 



112 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

affair. And when they had got to the hotel, Sir Enguer- 
rant, ashamed to find with whom it was he had undertaken 
to fight, said to him apart, ^' Jehan de Saintre, my 
brother ; you are a young gentleman, a Squire ; and I 
am an old one, and a Knight. If you would consent to 
release me from my engagement, I have here my own 
nephew, a young gentleman of your own age, and a 
Knight besides, as much I am myself, and who would 
willingly take my place. In this you would oblige me." 
To this Saintre, deliberate and courteous, like himself, 
made answer, and said, ^' Sir Enguerrant, it has been the 
will of Grod. and to my great good fortune, that this offer 
w^as first accepted at your hands ; for which, as best I 
am able, I do, and will continue most humbly to thank 
you ; for it is no mean obligation, which, as a gentle 
Knight you have laid me under, by pledging yourself, 
under your seal, to release me. And although Monsieur 
your nephew may, doubtless, be equal to^ and worthy to 
deliver the stoutest Knight of France this day alive ; never- 
theless, since fate would first that I should have affair with 
yourself, I must still be permitted to look to you, and you 
alone ; and for this, sir^ you must pardon me. And if, 
for any considerations which I am unacquainted with, or 
may be unable to divine, you shall think proper to with- 
draw from your engagement, I will then have only to 
consider myself to be lawfully and honourably discharged 
from my vow, and to return." 

The Author. 

And when Sir Enguerrant heard, from so young a man, 
so wary a retort, he was quite astonished, and saw plainly 
in his own mind, that he had given him to understand he 
dared not meet him ; and so would hold himself acquitted. 
So, making up his mind to satisfy him, he said, " Saintre, 
my brother, I have considered your very handsome 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 1 1 3 

speech ; what I promised you, under my seal^ God willing, 
our Lady, and my Lord Saint George, I will gratify you in, 
at the day and hour that my Lord the King has appointed 
us. And the sooner to bring these matters to an end, 
and as honourably as may be, I think it would be well, 
when the King has returned from vespers, that I should 
come and fetch you. You will then be ready, and come 
and pay your respects to the King and Queen, who will 
gladly see you. And there, in presence of the King, I will 
undo your bracelet, and to-morrow you shall have it again, 
as are the terms of your letter. And I trust, with the favour 
of my Lord St. George, and of our Lady, all will go well." 
And with this Saintre took his leave ; nor, for any 
entreaty would he remain to dine ; though, to see more 
of him, his carriage and his state. Sir Enguerrant would 
gladly have had him stay. 



CHAPTEE XXXII. 

How Sir Enguerrant presented Saintre to the King, and to the 
Queen, who gave him a most handsome reception, and solemnly 
feasted him. 

The Author again. 

THEN Sir Enguerrant went to the King, to tell him of 
the extraordinary handsomeness of Saintre, and of his 
graceful delivery, of which, as the King had already heard 
the report, he enjoined him urgently to bring him to see 
him, as did the Queen and all the Ladies of the Court. 
So, after vespers, Enguerrant, with all his people, with 
Saintre leaning on his arm, brought him to the King, in 
the presence of the Queen, and before whom they both 
and all knelt down. And as soon as the King saw him 
coming, he advanced two or three paces, and said to him, 
'' Welcome, fair son and youthful Squire." Then he bade 
them rise. And when they had risen, Sir Enguerrant 

I 



114 ^^^ History and pleasant Chronicle 

led liim to present him to the Queen, who said to him, 
^' Jehan, we are glad to see you ;" then she took his hand 
and made him rise. Next Sir Enguerrant led him 
towards the Ladies, and notwithstanding it was not the 
custom, he made him kiss them all, for so it had been 
ordered. Then they came back to the King, and when they 
were both on their knees. Sir Enguerrant said to the King, 
'' Lord, you have heard the letter of my brother, Saintre, 
wherein is detailed the condition of his arms; and, of your 
grace, you have appointed me a day and place when and 
where 1 am to deliver him. As a preface, Sir, to this, is 
it your will that I now commence with the preliminary 
article imposed upon us, which is this, to undo the bracelet 
that he now has on his left arm ?" 

Then the King, as a wise Prince, determining to hear 
from Saintre's own lips, and before all, if he would allow 
to it, had his letter read openly. Then he said to him, 
*' Jehan de Saintre, is that that you have-on, the one 
referred to in your letter ?" 

" Yes, Sir," said Saintre. 

Then said the king to Sir Enguerrant, " You are at 
liberty to undo it." 

.■I Then Sir Enguerrant took the bracelet off; and all 
that day he wore it round his neck, hanging from a 
handsome twine of silk and gold ; and in the morning he 
restored it to him. And when this was over, they went 
to the Queen and the other Ladies, who received them 
most courteously, and made them all sorts of good cheer. 
Then they went to the reception-hall, where they played 
at all kinds of games till supper-time. Then Saintr^ 
took his leave, retiring with Sir Enguerrant, and the other 
Knights and Squires, who had invited him to supper ; 
and who never once slacked, either that evening or the 
following days, to entertain one another with the beauty 
and the gracefulness of Saintre, and of all his company. 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 1 1 5 

And the fourth day, the king desired the Queen to send 
for and invite Saintre, and all'the Grentlemen who were 
with him, to dinner ; and at the dancing and the singing, 
Saintre, with several of his people, who sung surpassingly, 
greatly pleased the King, and Queen, and all who heard 
them. And in this manner, they were feted every day 
at the Court. But for the rest, to be short, I will come to 
the point. 



CHAPTER XXXm. 

How Saintre entered magnificently into the lists, surrounded by a 
noble assemblage of Princes and of Knights ; and of the order of 
the day. 

The Author, upon the entry of Saintre to the lists. 

AND when the XV day after his arrival was come, 
being the one appointed on which they were to 
fight, they were both armed and in readiness. And on 
the said day, the King, like a wise and magnificent Prince, 
to show his respect to the strangers, sent to Saintre, to 
conduct him, the Count de Cardonne, Don Frederic de 
Lune, Sir Arnauld de Pareilles, and Sir Francis de 
Moncade ; four great nobles, and Knights of his Court, 
with all their suites. And this was to do him honour ; 
and they were to ride in ranks. And when he had 
ordered this, the King set out himself, and got into his 
box, which was on one side of the lists, and gorgeously 
hung with tapestry on every side ; together with many 
Princes, Lords, Knights and Squires of his council. And 
on his left hand, the Queen was in her box, accompanied 
by many Princesses, Ladies and Gentlewomen of her Court, 
and of the Kingdom, who had come to the town to see the 
combat. And when the King and Queen had taken their 
seats, then, at the King's command, the Engs-at-arms 
and heralds carried his commands to either party, " that 



ii6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

they were to do as they had undertaken." Then Saintre, 
who was already prepared, as the originator and challenger, 
got upon his horse, with all his people, and set out in the 
following order : — 

First ; left his hotel, the drummers, on horseback, with 
all the company who came to conduct him, two and two. 
Next, after the drummers came his three sumpter-horses, 
carrying his trunks and coffers, all covered with cloths, 
richly embroidered with his arms ; each led by his groom, 
on foot. And after them came his two armorers, on foot. 
After the armorers came the bachelors, with their coats-of- 
arms emblazoned on their sides, two and two. And after 
the bachelors came Saintre's minstrels. After Saintre's 
minstrels came the King's minstrels, and the trumpets of 
Arragon. After the trumpets of Arragon came the 
heralds of Arragon. After the heralds of Arragon came 
the French heralds. After the French heralds came the 
Arragon Kings-at-arms, and those of Anjou ; the former 
wearing the coats-of-arms of their respective Lords ; and 
those of France the arms of Saintre, richly wrought. 

After, the Kings-at-arms, his four trumpets, and cla- 
rions ; and, after them, the Knights and Squires, each 
bearing on his thigh a ponderous lance ; and six of them 
were armed, cap-a-pied, and covered with a cloak of silver 
cloth, of Saintre's colour, and lined with marten. The 
other six were no less magnificently equipped, saving only 
the armour. After the twelve lances came the said Don 
Bernard de Cardonne, carrying on his thigh a lance, with 
its gonfanon, of a delicate crimson velvet, backed with 
ermine, and trimmed with a rich fringe of gold ; and each 
side was blazoned with the arms of Saintre. After the 
gonfanon came Don Frederic de Lune, upon a powerful 
courser, dressed as were the six armed lances, and carrying 
in his hand the trunk of a lance, on which was his helmet, 
and on its top a great thistle, with four golden leaves, that 



of little Jehan de Saiiitre, iiy 

covered the whole helmet. And from below the thistle 
floated a long streamer, richly sown with golden thread, 
and studded with great pearls ; the whole embroidered 
with golden letters. After tlie helmet Came Saintre, upon 
a magnificent and plunging charger, which had at it? 
head a gorgeous crest of ostrich feathers, all in Saintre's 
three colours ; he and his horse covered with a rich capa- 
rison of crimson satin, all studded with hearts of ermine, 
*****. On his head was a gay and jaunty cap of 
feathers ; and he was armed simply with his gauntlets, 
and on his thio^hs and feet. In his rio^ht hand was his 
banner, on which was our Lady and her child, and with 
which, at every pace, he crossed himself. After Saintre 
came Sir Francis de Moncade, and Sir Arnauld de 
Pareilles, each upon a splendid war-horse, and side by 
side. And after them came all the body of the other 
Knights and Squires, who, by the order of the King, had 
accompanied him. And all this princely procession and 
array alighted at the door of the great tent, which the 
King had had spread for him, at the barriers of the Ksts ; 
and into it entered Saintre with his four counsellors, and 
those of his own party who had come with him. And 
besides came, after the said Saintre, and in front of the 
said Lords, his four Pages, all mounted upon his plunging 
battle-horses, covered with his caparisons ; and the said 
Pages were also dressed as they had appeared on leaving 
Paris, as before described. 



CHAPTER XXXIY. 

How Sir Enguerrant besides entered the lists, in a like triumphant 

array. 

The Author, on the entry or Sir Enguerrant into the lists. 

Unwilling to run the risk of wearying the reader, this Chapter, 
which, in its general character, is little else than a repetition of the 
last, is purposely omitted. — Translatar, 



1 1 8 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTEK XXXY. 

How the King had the lances of the two champions measured. — And 
how popularly Saintre demeaned himself, in passing before the 
King and Queen : they in then' boxes. 

The Author, on the Arms. 

AND when they had both come, incontinent the King 
had their lances measured, which ought to be, from 
rest to point, Xlll feet in length. And when they had 
been measured, and each had been restored his own, the 
King ordered Saintre to lead the way, which he prepared 
to do. And as soon as he was mounted on his battle- 
horse, he called for his banner, and then made the major 
sign of the cross, repeating all the time to liimself his 
benediction, as Madame had taught him ; and then bow- 
ing, and crossing himself at every plunge, he proudly 
made for the lists ; and beside him were the four Lords, 
his counsellors, with a like number of his own people, and 
others, on horse and foot. And as custom was that the 
champions should ride backwards and forwards the whole 
length of the barrier, which was hung with green cloth ; 
when he came to the boxes where the King and Queen 
were, as profoundly as he was able, he made his reverence 
before them. And when the King saw the awfulness of 
Saintre, he said to his people, '' Truly this Squire, as well 
in everything he does, as in everything he sdys, shows 
himself a man of a wonderful ascendancy. Truly he has 
been nourished at the Court and fount of honour." And 
the like said the Queen, and all the Ladies present : there 
was not one that was not lost in wonder, and the most part 
fell to to pray for him. Then stately and measuredly he 
walked to the head of the lists, from whence, placing his 
lance upon his thigh, he gallopped to the other end, and 
then back again. Then the King sent for Sir Enguerrant, 



of little Jehan de Saintrd, 119 

who, to be short, did the same as Saintre. And when they 
had each retreated to their respective ends, the King told 
them, '' that they had now to do what had brought them 
into that field." 



CHAPTER XXXYI. 

How Saintre made the sign of the cross three times before he 
couched his lance : then, how the two champions encountered 
vaUantly. — And how, the first day, the King made Enguerrant 
retire the first from the lists ; saying, that Saintre had won for 
that day. 

The Author, on the First Day. 

THEN Saintre, who was holding his banner, began again 
to make the sign of the cross, and three times to 
say his benediction. Then lowering their lances, as hard 
as their horses would carry them, they made for one 
another. At the second course, the point of Sir Enguer- 
rant's lance slipped against the venew of Saintre ; and 
Saintre struck hnn at the bottom of his vambrace ; and, in 
breaking his lance, swerved a little. And as the lance 
being broken, trumpets, to deafen one, began to sound. 
At the third course, Sir Enguerrant, who had too far 
lowered his lance, broke it on Saintre' s saddlebow, and 
Saintre carried off the golden stag from Sir Enguerrant's 
helmet. Then the trumpets began again to blow; but 
because the lance had not been properly broken, the King 
desired them to stop. At the fourth course, the said Sir 
Enguerrant took him full in the breast, and admirably 
broke his lance; and Saintre wounded him on the 
shoulder, and his lance slipping, entered between the 
gauntlet and his arm, which became so benumbed, that, for 
four days, tliSey were unable to renew their arms. At the 
same time, Saintre broke his lance ; but as it was near 
the head, it was not counted. Then the King ordered the 
letters to be read, declaring that either was to wait upon 



I20 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

the other eight days after. He then gave orders that each 
of them was to return to his hotel, and that they were to 
retire armed, saving only the head. But the King wished 
so far to honour Saintre, that he made Sir Enguerrant 
retire the first, saying, " that Saintre had remained master 
of the field." 



CHAPTEK XXXYII. 

How tlie King sent for the two champions to sup with him. — And 
how% on the following day, they returned to the lists, performing 
prodigies, one upon the other. 

The Author. 

AKD when they were each unarmed, and had rested 
themselves, and Sir Enguerrant had had his hand 
attended to, the King sent for them to sup with him. 
And he placed Saintre on his right hand, as being a 
stranger, and Sir Enguerrant on his left, as a subject ; 
the said Sir Enguerrant having his hand bound, and in a 
sling. And when the tables were removed, the King sent 
for the Queen and the Ladies. And then the dances 
began ; and the Queen chose Saintre, and the other Ladies 
and Gentlewomen took the Knights and Squires who had 
come with him. ^^nd Saintre was commended by every 
body, man and woman, present. Sir Enguerrant, also, on 
his part, did what he could to honour and to entertain 
Saintre. And in this manner he was feasted till Sir 
Enguerrant was recovered. And on the fourth day, to 
complete their arms, the King ordered that they were to 
be in their places, all armed, as on the former occasion. 
And so they came, their heads only bare ; and as well 
they, as their horses, were entirely new caparisoned. 
And as soon as they were in the lists, the King desired 
them to do well what they had to do. Then, couching 
their spears, they spurred their horses one against the 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 1 2 1 

other. At this fifth course, Sir Enguerrant took Saintr^ 
on the chest, exactly on the shoulder-blade ; and Saintre 
him, full upon his helmet. And they each shivered their 
lances, so that the splinters flew into the air ; and it was 
as much as the horses could do to keep their legs. Then 
the trumpets began to sound, and the people to shout, as 
though they would never stop ; for both the lances had 
been fairly broken. At the sixth course Sir Enguerrant 
struck him again, exactly in the same place, and Saintre 
him * * , and each of them broke their lances. Thus 
each had broken his three lances. At the seventh course, 
as they were crossing their lances. Sir Enguerrant's horse 
shied, and so nothing came of it. At the eighth course, 
when his horse saw Saintre's coming, he wheeled right 
round ; and if Saintre had not instantly raised his lance, 
he would infallibly have pierced Sir Enguerrant in the 
back. And for this address the King, and Queen, and all 
the company loudly praised him. Then Sir Enguerrant 
returned to his tent to change his horse. And when he 
came back they first lowered their lances, and then made 
for one another, without, however, encountering. At this 
eighth course, through the ardour of his horse, which was 
fresh. Sir Enguerrant raised his lance a little too high, 
whilst Saint-re struck him, so that the lance, in slipping, 
unriveted all his breastplate ; and with the shock Sir 
Enguerrant was seen terribly to stagger. And so Saintre 
had fairly broken his four lances, whilst Sir Enguerrant 
was obliged to withdraw to change his armour. And when 
they were again in their places, and each one had his 
lance upon his thigh, they first spurred their horses, as 
hard as they could, one upon another, and then passed. 
At this ninth course, as fortune would have it, they crossed 
lances ; and such was the violence with which they met, 
for the barrier, which was merely a scarlet curtain, hang- 
ing between them, was as nothing, that Sir Enguerrant's 



122 TJie History and pleasant Chroniele 

horse was thrown on his haunches, and that of Saintre had 
his shoulder driven in. Then Saintre dismounted, and 
went to his tent to get another, which was a sorrel 
coloured, and on which he mounted. But on no account, 
for any urgence they could employ, would he consent to 
take off his helmet. And when Sir Enguerrant had risen, 
and returned to his end of the lists, he there waited for 
Saintre, who speedily appeared. At the eleventh course 
Sir Enguerrant lowered, a little, his lance and struck him 
in the fissure of a plate, and Saintre him, upon the buckler, 
which he drove right before him. And though Sir 
Enguerrant was slightly stunned, they each honourably 
broke their lances. However, Sir Enguerrant had only 
broken four, but as Saintre had shivered five to splinters, 
all the trumpets began so to blow, and the people to shout, 
that it was a long while before they stopped. And as, 
with this round, the V lances of Saintre had been broken, 
which was the number fixed on by the terms of Saintre's 
letter, Sir Enguerrant, who clearly saw that the honour of 
the day remained with Saintre, asked him, '' If he would 
care to break a lance in honour of the Ladies ?" to which 
Saintre said, " He was well content." And when the King 
heard that they were about to break a lance in honour of 
the Ladies, he sent to them, and forbid them, as they had 
first to perform their arms on foot. And then he ordered 
them each, exactly as they were, to appear before him. 
And when they were come, he desired them both to dis- 
arm. Then, by his King-at-arms, whom he had made to 
mount into his box, he had the following proclamation 
read. 




of little Jehan de Saintre. 123 



CHAPTER XXXYIII. 

How the Herald-at-arms pronounced the decision of the victory ; 
that Saintre had gained it. — Of the prizes and courtesies exchanged 
between them ; and of their leaving the lists. 

The decision touching the Arms. 
" T7"0U two noble Lords, here present, and whose names 
1 I have not to mention, my Lord the King has been 
witness to your magnificent assaults, so happily and so 
vigorously contested, that better could no man living 
have acquitted himself, and which now I will recall." 
Then, course by course, and step by step, he read the 
notes of the whole eleven courses. Then he continued ; 
" But seeing that up to the last course, you had each, 
alike, broken your four lances, but that in it the most 
noble Squire, Jehan de Saintre, broke his fifth, the said 
noble Squire, Jehan de Saintre is declared, by so having 
done, to have closed the assault by lance ; and the Lord, 
the King, adjudges to him the prize." Then Sir Enguer- 
rant made for Saintre to restore to him the ruby. But 
when Saintre saw him coming, as quick as he could he 
turned his courser towards him, and approached to meet 
him. Then, humbly bowing to him, he took him by the 
hand ; and then embracing him, as well as he could, he 
said, '' My Lord, and my brother, from the bottom of my 
heart, and with all the earnestness I can, I thank you for 
the great honour you have done me. Then Sir Enguerrant , 
like a thoughtful and courteous Knight, replied, " What, 
my brother, is this you are telling me ? It is I who should 
thank you, for you have right soundly beaten me. And 
I pray to God, and to my Lord St. George, that you may 
have the grace, as you have begun, so to continue. And 
to your lovely Lady, to whose favour you are aspiring, 
yoii will humbly recommend me. All this company here 



124 Th^ History and pleasant Chronicle 

present being witness to my words, I now renounce all 
claim to this ruby, whicli she has been the means of fairly 
winning you ; begging that she will accept this, my ac- 
knowledgment, in good part. Then Saintre, bowing, took 
the princely ruby, and having kindly thanked him, con- 
tinued, " No, my Lord, and my brother, it is to you, solely, 
that I owe my victory, who, through your courtesy, re- 
fused to put forth your strength. But, that your ever- 
to-be desired Lady may not be defrauded of her rights, I 
have to request, that you will be good enough to recom- 
mend me to her, and to take to her, and give her this little 
diamond." And when Sir Enguerrant saw, at once, the 
great and lustrous diamond, and Saintre^s airy, open, and 
bewitching manner, he turned to the other Lords near 
him, and said in his Catelan, " and truly, of young people, 
this young fellow is the very flower." Then he said to 
Saintre, ''Allow me, Sir, to thank you, as well on her 
Ladyship's account as on my own, and as gratefully as 
though I had accepted it and she had had it. But, for 
this once, you must pardon me, for I will not deprive you 
of it. More fitting you should bestow it upon her who so 
richly has deserved it, and is entitled to it." And so 
urgently did Saintre press him, and so steadily did Sir 
Enguerrant decline, that, at last, the King took notice of 
it, and asked, ^' What it was, was between them." And 
when he came to know, as did the Queen, it need hardly be 
inquired what they, the Lords, the Ladies, the Knights, 
the Gentlewomen, the Squires, as everybody else, thought 
of Saintre. However, the King, perceiving how much 
Saintre 's heart was set on it, desired Sir Enguerrant 
to take it, seeing it was out of civility that it was offered 
to him. Then Sir Enguerrant took it. Then the trumpets 
and the minstrels began to sound ; and the King ordered 
them to go and disarm. Then was it the wish of each to 
be permitted the honour of escorting the other, and many 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 125 

entreaties passed between them. But at last Sir Enguer- 
rant prevailed ; and, the more amply to show his respect, 
placing himself by his side, he took him by the right 
hand. And when they had reached Saintre's hotel, 
Saintre urged everything he could think of, or was able, 
to be allowed to reconduct him; and he had certainly 
done it had not the Lords, as well on the one side as the 
other, prevented him. Then Saintre pressed the Lords, 
his counsellors, with others, to sup with him ; but for no 
consideration would they agree to it. So they all left 
him to repose himself for the night, as did they also Sir 
Enguerrant. And on the following day they were to per- 
form on foot. But the King, like a thoughtful, wise and 
gracious Prince, and Lord, determined with himself, that, 
after such a day they were entitled to one to refresh them- 
selves. 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

How Saintre, after lie had heard mass, sent by two Heralds-at-anns 
two axes to Sir Enguerrant, as required by the terms of his chal- 
lenge. — And after, how the King sent his Herald to signify to 
Saintrd the hour he was to be at the lists. 

The Author. 

ON the second day after, being the one fixed for their 
arms on foot, Saintre, before proceeding to do any- 
thing else, heard a mass of the Holy Spirit, and called for 
his benediction. Then, by two heralds and a varlet, he 
sent two axes to Sir Enguerrant, covered up, to take his 
choice, as were the terms of his engagement. And when 
he had chosen one and returned the other, the heralds 
mgt the Arragon King-at-arms, who was going first to 
Saintre, from the King, to tell him that, at two o'clock in 
the afternoon, he was to be at the lists to perform the arms 
on foot. And when he had most humbly thanked the 



126 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

King, through the herald, he gave the said herald a 
costly mantle of crimson damask, trimmed with silver and 
lined with martin, for the great and joyous news he 
brought him. Then the herald went and made his report 
to the King. 

The Author. 
And when one in the afternoon had struck, the King^ 
with the Queen, to be in readiness, were mounted in 
their boxes. Then he sent to the two parties, that they 
should appear. Then Saintre, foremost, as the challenger, 
appellant, and not appellee, got upon his horse, and taking 
his banner in his hand, and making with it the greater 
sign of the cross, and repeating to himself his benedic- 
tion, and the rest, entered the lists in the following 
manner. 



CHAPTER XL. 

How the two champions entered, for the third time, solemnly into 

the lists. 

The Author again. 

As with some few and immaterial variations, as to dress and 
armour, the substance of the opening of this Chapter has already ap- 
peared in Chapters XXXIII. and XXXI Y. ; it is omitted. — Translator, 



* * * * . Then the King commanded the King-at- 
arms to call the parties. Then Saintre, accompanied by 
his Lords and counsellors, came to the entrance of the lists, 
all on foot. And there was the King's Seneschal, who 
demanded of him, " Who he was, and what he came there 
to do ?" To whom, smiling, he humbly rejoined. '' My 
Lord Mareschal, I am Jehan de Saintre, and I have cqpae 
at the day and time appointed by the most mighty Prince, 
the King, now present, as sole arbiter and judge between 
my Lord, my brother, Sir Enguerrant de Servillon and 



of little JeJian de Saintre. 127 

myself, in the combat, which, by his appointment, we are 
about to wage ; and as, by my letters, I demanded." And 
when the Mareschal heard his reply, he went to the King 
to make his report. Then the King ordered the gate to 
the lists to be thrown open, so that he might proceed to 
his tent. And when the gate was opened, he passed, and, 
taking his banner in his hand, having first made with it 
the greater sign of the cross, and kissed it, he entered his 
tent. And, to be short, Sir Enguerrant made his entrance 
in the like manner. But they had scarcely got to their 
tents before the Mareschal, followed by four guards, one 
after the other, appeared. And beginning with Saintre, 
when they had armed him with all his arms, they took 
and presented him, surrounded by his assigned counsellors, 
to the King, who was in his box. And as he was going, 
he had to pass before the one where the Queen was, and 
all the other Ladies. Then Saintre, bowing himself, 
humbled himself on his knees before them. Then might 
you have seen them wildly clasp their hands, and crying 
to God to shield him and protect him. And presently 
after. Sir Enguerrant appeared. Then Saintre, lowly 
saluting him, which, however, was not the custom, said to 
him, " My Lord, my brother, without Avishing any preju- 
dice to any, I pray God he send you success and honour.' 
'' And as much to you, my brother," said Sir Enguerrant. 
Then they both went on their knees before the King. 
Then the King ordered the Seneschal to make them take 
the customary oaths. Then the Mareschal made them 
swear, upon the holy Evangelists, " that, as they believed 
in a God, on their lives, and on their honours, they neither 
had put about them, nor did they believe to be about 
them, either charm, herb, incantation, enchantment, con- 
juratito, or any other sort of sorcery, or devilish inven- 
tion, either for their own preservation, or the detriment of 
their antagonist — that there was no ground of jealousy, or 



128 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

quarrel between them ; but that all was done to purchase 
to themselves honour and renown, and the ever-to-be- 
desired grace of their ever-lovely Ladies." These oaths 
taken, they each got up, and made for their tents. But 
when Saintre rose, before going away, he made again his 
reverence, first to the King, and then to the Queen and 
the Ladies, as he had already done. Then they each went 
to their tents to have their beavers closed. 



CHAPTER XLI. 
How they issued from their tents to perform their Arms. 

WHEN they were each ready, and, to be short, the 
usual proclamations and defences had been made, 
the King commanded that they were to be told to come 
forth from their tents ; but in leaving, Saintr^, having 
opened his vizor, kissed his banner, repeating, the while, 
the benediction that Madame had taught him. Then, 
making with it the greater sign of the cross, he kissed it a 
second time, and then handed it to one of his counsellors. 
Then he lowered his vizor, and began, in all his harness, 
to wield his arms, stoop, skip, rise, fall, turn, back, bound, 
and all as readily as if he had been in his shirt, holding 
all the time his axe in his hand. And when they were 
both out of their tents, and their tents out of the lists, 
then, by ordinance of the King, the Mareschal, in the 
middle of the lists, began to cry, with a loud voice, " Let 
them go !" 



CHAPTER XLIl. 
How they marched one against the other ; each doing valiantly. 

AND when the Mareschal had given them leave to go, 
as they advanced one upon the other, you had thought 
they had been two lions unchained. But there was this 



of little JeJian de Saintre. 129 

difference ; as Saintre was" making for him, he cried aloud, 
so that all might hear him, " Hah, my ever-gentle dame, 
and whose I am !" and then they began to fall upon one 
another. Then Sir Enguerrant, who was a most valiant 
Knight, strong and powerful, and larger built than Saintr^, 
raised liis axe, and dealt him such a blow upon the shoulder 
that he made him reel, while Saintre, in return, struck 
him with the handle of his axe upon the bars of his vizor, 
driving him several paces back. Then Sir Enguerrant 
elevated his axe to strike a second time ; but Saintre, 
making for him, gave him such a cut over the hand with the 
sharp of his axe, that neither guard nor anything else could 
avail, so that all his fingers were smashed and benumbed. 
Sir Enguerrant, who was now hot, nor knew anything of 
what had happened to his fingers, thought again to lift his 
axe, and it was only then he began to feel the pain, and that 
he could no longer wield it. So, as a wary and a dauntless 
Knight, holding his axe in his left hand, he opened his 
arms to seize Saintre by the waist. But when Saintr^ 
perceived his aim, ********* he continued to 
strike, nor ever once let him approach. And when he saw 
his moment, all on a sudden he gave him such a blow on 
the hand in which he was holding the axe, that he sent it 
flying in the air ; and when Sir Enguerrant saw that his 
axe was gone, in sheer desperation he rushed upon 
Saintre, to close with him, catching him by one arm. 
But when the King saw the axe of Sir Enguerrant upon the 
ground, and the two together by the middle, as Prince and 
Judge sovereign, he at once threw down his wardour, and 
said, '' Ho, ho !" Then were the two champions separated 
by the guards. Then the King, by the Mareschal, called 
the tv\^u champions before him, and then had said to them, 
" You, Sir Enguerrant, and you, Jehan de Saintrd, the 
King desires you should know, that you have each so 
nobly and so valiantly acquitted yourselves that it would 

K 



130 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

have been impossible to have done better ; but, according 
to the articles, the Lord, the King, who here is, has recog- 
nized that the combat was to end either when one or other 
of you were borne to the ground, or either had lost his 
axe from both his hands. So, by the terms, Jehan de 
Saintre^, the Lord, the King, adjudges to you the prize." 

Then the King commanded them both, they being on 
their knees, to rise, and to take off their helmets. And 
when Saintre understood the decision and sentence of the 
King, as humbly as he could he thanked him, saying, 
'' Ha, most excellent and puissant Prince, for the honour 
you have done me by your sentence, as humbly as I can 
find words to thank you, I do ; but as to the prize, which 
you have said is to be mine, as humbly as T can, I crave 
that you will a little reconsider your award, and recall the 
manner in which my Lord, my brother, who here is, be- 
laboured me with his axe. And as for any little advan- 
tage that I may have had over him, Sir, you must have 
clearly seen that it came only by the merest accident." 

At such a speech from Saintre every one who heard him 
was amazed, and all tongues were loosed in his praise ; 
each one striving who most could extol him.^^-* And 
however much they might naturally lean to Sir Enguerrant 
as their countryman, they could not help admitting that 
Saintre was the Mountjoy and the very nonpareil of all 
honour, condescension, and of humility ; and the King in 
his box, and all those w^ho were with him, were quite 
astonished, as were the Queen, Madame Elinor de Car- 
donne, wife to the said Sir Enguerrant, and all the other 
Princesses, Countesses, Baronesses, Ladies, and Gentle- 
women that were in the Queen's box ; and they all began 
to praise him unmeasuredly. And Sir Enguerrant him- 
self, to those who were about him, could not refrain from 
saying, " Just listen to him ; is it not royal the way he 
talks ? Who is there alive but him, or who was there ever 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 131 

lived that would thus waive so high an honour, or recede 
but from the slightest of his right, out of mere delicacy 
toward an antagonist ?" 

All this time the King, who was in a sort of reverie, 
lost in admiration with all this praise of Saintre, quite 
forgot that he had left him on his knees, which, at last 
observing, he hurriedly bade him rise, and then said, 
" Jehan de Saintre, as to what you have desired me to 
reconsider, I have reconsidered ; and that all the world 
may know the grace and the honour that God has done 
you, I cannot depart or retreat from anything." 

Then the King desired Sir Enguerrant to deliver up his 
axe ; and, when he was disarmed, to fulfil the remaining 
part of their engagement. Then Sir Enguerrant called for 
his axe, and, taking it in his maimed hand, as well as he 
could, with the assistance of the other, he courteously 
handed it to Saintre, saying, '' My brother, I here give 
you your axe, and for the rest it shall be all discharged, 
conformably as in your letter of arms is contained ; pray- 
ing to God, and to my Lord St. George that, more and 
more, may you increase in honour." 

And when Saintr^ had heard the orders of the King, 
and the handsome words of Sir Eno-uerrant, he called for 
his bracelet, which one of his people was holding ; then, 
having taken the axe, and bowing to Sir Enguerrant, he 
said, " My Lord, my brother, seeing such is the good 
pleasure of the King, I submit to it ; but, personally, to- 
wards yourself, who have so richly merited otherwise, I 
must be allowed to hold myself discharged and noncon- 
sentant. I must give you this bracelet, entreating you 
most sincerely that you will kindly accept of it." 

On hearing this. Sir Enguerrant and all the rest were 
even more astonished than they had been, and Sir Enguer- 
rant said to him, " Ha, my brother, Jehan de Saintre', is 
there never to be an end of your condescensions ! , As for 



132 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

tlie bracelet, for the honour which you do me, I thank 
you from my heart, but accept it I cannot. It must 
assuredly be restored to your lovely Lady." 

And seeing them in words, the King called to know 
what it was they were protesting about. Then the Mares- 
chal said, " Sir, it is Jehan de Salntre here, who will 
absolutely insist on Sir Enguerrant's having the bracelet, 
exactly as if he had won or gained the prize !" 

" The bracelet !" returned the King ; then he turned 
towards the Princes and other Lords that were with him, 
and said, ''What do you say to the courteousness and 
the valiancy of this, so young a Squire ? I, for one, never 
saw the like." 

'^ Nor did we either," said they. " And it is easy to be 
seen that he is come of a generous stock, and that he has 
had his wits about him, and turned all that was going on 
to account in the noble Court where he was born and bred, 
and as much for that matter may be said of all those that 
are with him." 

Then the King desired him to keep his bracelet to 
himself. And when Saintre heard the King, he said to 
him, on his knees, " At the least, Sir, grant that 1 may 
otherwise dispose of it." 

" Any where else," said the King, " readily. The 
bracelet is your own, do w^hat you like with it. But we 
would not have it thought or said that it was through us, 
or by our orders, that it was given." 

" Sir," said Saintre, " I am obliged to you." 

Then he called to him the Arragon and Touraine 
Kings-at-arms, and Lusignan the herald, who had come 
with him ; and to the King-at-arms he gave the bracelet, 
and then sent the three to Madame de Cardonne, wife to 
Sir Enguerrant, who was in the box with the Queen, 
desiring them to tell her " that he most humbly com- 
mended himself to her, and that as it was she, as he could 



oj little Jehan de Saintre, 133 

not but know, who, the most righteously was entitled to 
the bracelet, lie had to beg and pray of her, on the part of 
his ever- to-be-redoubted Lady, who had given it to him, 
that she would be pleased, out of an esteem and regard for 
her, to accept it ; excusing her that it was neither so rich 
nor so matchless as it were befitting to such an one to be 
tendered." 

If the Queen, Madame Elinor, and the other Princesses 
and Ladies who were with her, and the King, who was in 
his box on her right, and all the Lords with him were 
amazed, I leave you to think ; no words could picture 
their astonishment. Then Madame Elinor, to the Kings- 
at-arms and heralds, replied, " Kings-at-arms and you 
others, heralds, my friends : the most generous and 
valiant Squire de Saintr^, I thank ; but, with his permis- 
sion, it is not I who have either won or merited this 
bracelet for him, as he alleges ; but it is another who has 
purchased for him the honours and distinctions of this 
day, and for this reason you are to take it back to him, 
and tell him that he must pardon me." 

And when the Queen, as a wise and thoughtful Lady, 
heard her excuse, she said to her, " Really, fair Cousin, 
this is not the kind of thing to refuse, and from so accom- 
plished a gentleman as this is. I request and insist on 
your taking it.'^ 

Then Madame Elinor bowed to the decision of the 
Queen, and the Queen herself undertook to fasten it on 
her left arm. And when the bracelet was on her arm, she 
•took from her necklace a handsome locket which was 
hanging from it (it was a large pearl of five carats, bor- 
dered with three large and beautiful diamonds, and three 
great rubies), and giving it to the King-at-arms, said to 
him, " You, and you, heralds, here present : this little 
trifle, which I now give to you, you are to present to this 
most gentle and generous Squire, Jehan de Saintre, on 



134 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

my part, recommending me in all kindness to him. And 
you will tell him that, although by rights the bracelet 
should rather pertain to his most fair and gracious Lady 
than to myself; nevertheless, to satisfy him, it shall be 
kept, and that I doubt not but so worthy and so good a 
Lady will requite to him all the honour which, this day, 
he has acquired. And this little trinket you will present 
to him, requesting him, with my regards, to be good 
enough to give it to her." 

These words exchanged, and jewels offered and ac- 
cepted, the King, when he came to hear of it, was well 
pleased. Then he ordered that they both should be dis- 
armed. Then each one returned to his own tent to mount 
his horse, and when Saintre was in his saddle, he pre- 
sently made for Sir Enguerrant, who, through the pain 
that he was suffering, was obliged to be attended. And 
when he saw Saintre coming, he said to him, " Ho, ho, 
brother, brother ! and is it thus your Lady then requires 
you to lay on with those who game with you ?" 

And when they were both mounted, then were there 
great prayers between them, as to Avhich of them w^as to be 
allowed the honour of following the other. But the King, 
who knew well that the precedence was due to Saintre, 
instantly desired that they were to retire side by side ; 
but that Saintre, as he had gained the prize, was to be on 
the right. Then they departed for their hotels exactly as 
they had arrived ; but, in separating, there were again 
great prayers, for each insisted on seeing his companion 
home. And when the King saw the prayers, he imme- 
diately sent to them to say that they were to have no 
more of those ceremonies, but each one to take his own 
road. Then they took leave of one another, and went 
each to his hotel, to disarm and repose himself for the rest 
of the day, till supper-time, when the Queen sent for 
them, when, to be brief, w^ere excellent wines, victuals, 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 135 

dishes, and side dishes, and all on the grandest scale. 
Then were they with singing, dancing, a la Moresque, 
and after other fashions, right royally entertained. And 
now 1 will forbear to speak of the great honours, of the 
dinners and the suppers which the King, the Queen, and 
other Lords and Ladies gave to Saintre, and Saintre to 
them, and will turn to the farewell that he took, and the 
presents wliich were made on the one part and on the 
other. 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

How Saintre took leave of the King and Queen, and of all those of 
the Court ; and of the presents that were made. 

AND when Saintre had fulfilled his arms, in the manner 
you have heard, he remained two days at Barcelona, 
feasting and making merry. And on the fourth day he 
took his leave of the King, the Queen, the Lords, the 
Ladies and Gentlewomen of the Court, as also of the other 
Princes, Princesses, Ladies of the provinces, who had come 
to see his arms, which Avere then thought much more of 
than they are at present. And it was the pleasure of the 
King and Queen, that,^ for this once, the custom of the 
country should be departed from in favour of Saintre, and 
the Knights and Squires of his party ; that is, that they 
should all be kissed by the Ladies. And the Queen her- 
self determined to set the example, for she kissed Saintre 
first, then all the Knights and Squires of his company. 
Then all the other Ladies did the like ; which, till then, 
had never been done, and never has been done since, ex- 
cepting only in especial cases, as those of alliance. And 
at this flirewell, on either side, was many a sorry Alas ! 
for, already in the gentle breast of many a Lady and of 
Knight were kindled and were struck those tender sparks, 
which quired love alone can cover or can quench. And 



136 The B^istory and pleasant Chronicle 

however much they might try to laugh it off, and smile 
amid their tears, they could not so command themselves 
but they came trickling down their cheeks. And when 
it was all over, and his baggage trussed, he sent to tha 
King the finest and the most powerful of his four war- 
horses, covered with the richest housings that he had, and 
on him was a beautiful and dapper little page, his own 
proper nephew * * * ^ 

The remainder of this Chapter is omitted, as it consists of a mere 
dry detail of the presents exchanged between the Court and Saintre. 
— Translator, 



CHAPTER XLIY. 

How Saintre, accompanied by all the Lords, departed from Barce- 
lona, on his way for France. 

This Chapter, possessing no sort of new interest, is passed over. — 
Translator, 



CHAPTER XLV. 

How Saintre and his companions came ; and of the good reception 
which they met with from the King, the Queen, Madame, and the 
rest. 

AND when Saintre had got to his first night's lodging, 
on the evening of the day he had left Barcelona ; as 
he was turning over how he might, the most becomingly, 
apprise Madame of all he had done, and how matters had 
gone, and he was coming back ; he thought that it would 
hardly do to send one of the heralds, for people would say 
that he had done it through vanity, and so he might bring 
himself into envy and trouble. And so he determined to 
consult with Sir Guillaume de Prouilly, as one whom he 
could trust, which Prouilly told him, that certainly, it 
would be better taste that such news should be announced 
by some other than the herald, even although it was 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 137 

leo"ltimately his business ; and that he would not any more 
advise him to write, himself, to King, or Queen, or any- 
body else. 

'' But," said he, " if you like, I will send my cousin, 
Guillaume ; or, wliat will be better, I will write in my 
own name to the King, the Queen, and all the Ladies of 
honour, all that has happened ; and Guillaume, who has 
been with us all through, can enlarge on everything, and 
confirm to them its truth." 

And so they did. And when the King, the Queen, and 
all the other Ladies, and especially Madame, knew it, there 
was jubilee everywhere ; nor, for several days, was there 
almost anything else spoken of. Every one was longing for 
his return. And Madame, from the day of his departure, 
had hardly ever a moment, day or night, relaxed from her 
prayers and orisons ; nor ever once from following her 
promised vow, never to wear next her naked flesh any 
linen, either on the Friday or Saturday, till such time 
as she had been assured of his safety. And when she 
had first heard the news, how, at the Court of Arragon, he 
was to be delivered by a Knight, with the consent of the 
King; over and above her vow, she engaged herself to 
have masses said every Wednesday, and to give in alms 
to the value of ten ecus ; and besides, to go quietly on 
pilgrimages about the town ;^'^ and in this discipline she 
never failed to exercise herself, especially about the time 
when the news of the battle might be expected to arrive. 
And at the very moment when G uillaume de Prouilly, 
sent by his Uncle, arrived, she was on her knees. And 
when Madame heard these long-wished-for news, which 
Isabelle came running to tell her, and had made her 
repeat, it to her, incontinent raising her eyes to heaven, 
she thanked her Saviour. Then hurrying to her chamber, 
she threw herself on her naked knees, and, with clasped 
hands, devoutly thanked God. What need I say more ? 



138 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



Such was her delight, and her ecstacy, that, on the one 
hand, it was as much as ever she could do to keep, for 
a moment, quiet : and, on the other, so passionately did 
she long to see him, that neither day nor night could she 
be still ; so that all her rapture was well nigh turned to 
pain. And now, for the present, I will give over to speak 
of how all her great delight was changed into anguisli, out 
of her ardent desire to see him ; and will tell you of his 
arrival at the Court, and of the great honour and good cheer 
that awaited him. 



CHAPTER XLYI. 

How Saintre, by dint of journeying, made his appearance before the 
King, and of the honours and good cheer which were made him ; 
and how Madame's heart was cured. 

AND when Saintre and his company had arrived, by 
their stages, at about two leagues from Paris, they 
there found many a good Knight, Squire, Citizen, with 
others of the Court and of the city, who had come to meet 
him, to honour him, and escort him into the town ; so much 
was he loved of all. Then was there such congratulation^ 
on either side, that it was a perfect pleasure to look on. 
And when he had made his reverence to the King, and to 
the Queen, who were dehghted to see him back, he then 
went to Madame, who, from the state she was in could 
hardly keep herself within bounds. However, like a wary 
Lady as she was, her agonies she stifled as best she could. 
Then he went to the rest, who all gave him the kindest 
reception ; and kissed him every one. Then, in honour 
of his return, the Queen called for dancing. And when 
the Ladies were all dancing, Madame, who was with the 
Queen, said to her, " Hey, Madame, surely Saintre has 
had enough of dancing in Arragon ; and, besides, he must 
be tired ; for God's sake call him here, and make him sit 



of little JeJian de Saintre, 139 

down quietly among ourselves, and ask him about the 
manners and appearance of the Ladies of Arragon." 

'' Faith, fair Cousin/' said the Queen^ " you are right." 

Then the Queen sent for Saintre, and besides, called 
three other Ladies to her. Then she said to Saintre, 
*' Saintre, good friend, you must rest yourself;" then to 
the other three Ladies, " Now sit you all down, and the 
most good-natured must be our spokesman." 

Madanie, for one, that she might be the better able to 
feast her eyes upon him, made up her mind, that she, who- 
ever else might, w^as not to be the most good-natured ; and 
so she conveniently contrived not to hear. Then the 
Queen, herself, began to interrogate Saintre, as to every- 
thing about his arrival at the Court of Arragon, and of the 
reception he had met with from the King, the Queen, and 
all the Lords, and especially of that of the Ladies. Then 
she asked him all about his arms, as well on horse as on 
foot; and after that, of the beauty, customs, and the 
dresses of the Ladies ; in all which Saintre satisfied her ; 
negligently passing, however, as became him, whatever 
regarded himself or his arms. And the little he did say 
of them, was rather to the credit of Sir Enguerrant than 
of himself. For the other matters, he extolled the Ladies 
to the skies, from whatever point of view he considered 
them ; as did he also the King, and all the Court : in 
fact, more was impossible. 

And now, for the present, I will give over to speak of 
the ceremonies, the honours, and the triumphs whereof he 
was cross-questioned by the Queen and the Ladies, and I 
will tell you of the transcendant joy of Madame, and of the 
good cheer she made him ; and of how she fed her eyes 
upon him, from tune to time; that is, as often as she 
could. 



I40 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

The Authoe. 
Madame, when all this examination was going on, as if 
her thoughts were elsewhere, or she was thinking of 
nothing, first of all looking one way, then another ; then 
this direction^ then that, all of a sudden darted her piteous 
glance upon him ; then, whipping her bodkin from her 
breast, she began to pick her teeth, for that was their signal. 
And when Saintre saw Madame's signal, incontinent, he 
replied by rubbing his right eye. And thus, in this 
ecstatic agony, passed these two true lovers' hearts this 
never ending and most tedious day long, even till the 
shades of night set in, and the hour appointed between them 
had come, when they met in the garden. Then they 
commenced to congratulate, and each to entertain the 
other ; and many were the kisses given, and many were 
the kisses taken. And there were all their joys. There 
was every thought of their heart exchanged, and there 
was every trouble healed. And in all this felicity they 
remained from eleven of the clock till the second hour 
after midnight, when, needs was, they must part. And 
at present I will forbear to further speak of their perfect 
delight, and I will turn to the advancement of Saintre, 
and to acquaintance which he made with Bouciqualt the 
first of the name. 



CHAPTEK XLYII. 

Here tells how Saintre became Chamberlain to the King, and of the 
alliances between him, and Myngre, otherwise Bouciqualt. 

AND so much, and in so little a time, did he increase in 
honour, that the King, who so dearly loved Saintre, as 
you have heard, had him first to sleep in his chamber, and 
next to be his chief chamberlain. And Saintre, who had 
perfectly retained in his memory the inculcations of 
Madame, when, in his infancy she had instilled into him 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 141 

the seeds of virtue and of good manners, had never for- 
gotten the saying of Albertus : — 

Kon tua claudatur acl vocem pauperis auris ; 

nor yet the inimitable verses of Aristotle, who says like- 
wise : — 

Yir bone qui curas res viles res perituras. 
Nil profutiiras, dampno quandoqiie futiiras. 
Kemo dill mansit in crimine sed cito transit. 
Et brevis atqiie levis in mundo gloria quevis ; 

nor any other of the pithy sentences touching those who 
had risen to a prominent position. So that, despite all 
this countenance that he had from the King, never once was 
his heart lifted up, nor were his manners changed ; but, 
to every one, he continued urbane and gracious, as he had 
ever been. And about this time there was in the Court 
a certain young Squire, of the Duchy of Touraine, exceed- 
ingly comely, and who, in sport, was called Bouciqualt ; 
grandfather of the Bouciqualts now living : a young 
person, for his years, exceeding subtle, bold, resolute, and 
standing high in the good opinion of the King. And this 
Bouciqualt, seeing Saintre to be also so, and more regarded 
of him than any of the others, determined to be acquainted 
with him. Whilst Saintre, who, besides, that he was 
young, seeing him to be a man as resolved as himself, as 
well as of his own country, readily met his advances ; and 
in a short time, they became so intimate, and so fond of one 
another, that had they been brothers they could not have 
been more so. And the King, who had always liked Bouci- 
qualt, was so well pleased to see their familiarity, that he 
was content to allow him to sleep in the same bed with 
Saintre ; that is to say, when he did not lie with the 
Queen. What need I say more ? These two Squires so 
took to one another, that never did two brothers love 
more ; and they were, each to the other, so loyal and so 
true, that misunderstanding or mistrust never once arose 



y 



142 TJie History and pleasant Chronicle 

between tliem. And whenever either of them w^as abroad, 
whether upon business or for their engagements, or affairs 
of arms, the other would take his place, so that no one 
should step in. And though Bouciqualt was a right 
hardy Knight, and more subtle and experienced than was 
Saintre; nevertheless, in the field, Saintre was reputed 
the more daring of the two. And speaking of them, the 
Heralds and the King-at-arms had a common way of say- 
ing, that. For an assault^ Saintre is better worth than 
Bouciqualt ; hut when it comes to a parley, Bouciqualt is 
better worth than Saintre. That is to say, one was made 
for arms, the other for counsel. And so it came, that so 
long as they lived, so long lasted, unbroken, their under- 
standing and attachment. 

And now I will say no more of these two, but will turn 
to the other new arms which w^ere performed between 
Saintr6 and the Lord de Loiselench, a Polish Baron, whose 
arms were * * ; which combat took place, at Paris, before 
the King, the Queen, Madame, and other Lords and 
and Ladies, innumerable. 



CHAPTER XLYIIL 

How Madame desired Saintre to deliver the Polish Baron from the 
enterprise he had undertaken. 

The first portion of this chapter is omitted, as, in its general cha- 
racter, the engagement of the Pole was the counterpart of that 
already given, of Saintre, at Barcelona. — Translator, 

The Author. 
^ ^ ^ 7^ <^ 

AND when Madame had read the challenge, as it was 
announced ; without so much as losing a moment, 
she sent for Saintre. And then as quietly, and as shortly 
as she could, she said to him, " My friend, at length the 
day has come, which God and fortune have been prepar- 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 143 

ing for you ; to bring you unto honour, and that you may 
be exalted. This Polish Knight has come, and has 
pubhshed his Arms ; and so I have to beg of you, with 
all the earnestness I can, that you will be the first with 
my Lord, the King, with the request to be allowed to 
deliver him. And as for the expense, let not that trouble 
your head, for God and we will provide withal. And in 
this you will oblige me, as my very dearest friend, my all 
in all to me. And though I, who entreat you thus, am the 
one, above all others, who should the rather seek to turn 
you from it ; the most affray you of such mortal perils ; 
nevertheless, so much have I your reputation and your 
fame at heart, that I would wish you to show yourself on 
every occasion, as w^ell the most courageous, as the most 
ready ; trusting that God will bring you off with honour." 

And when Saintre saw the earnestness of Madame, and 
how passionately her soul was set on it, he immediately 
fell on his knees, and humbly thanked her, and said, 
" Ever-to-be-redoubted Lady ; on the love I bear, and on 
the fealty I owe you, your thoughts were my thoughts, 
for I was already contriving how we could meet about it." 

'' Then away with you, this instant," said she, '' so 
that none be before you." 

Then, in all haste, he went after the King ; and when 
he was on his knees, he made his prayer in such a manner 
as was becoming. Hearing him, the King, who liked him 
greatly, looked at him, half incredulous and amazed, to 
see so young a man, and of so slight a build, proposing to 
measure himself with this Polish Knight. And presently 
he said to him, '^ And Saintre, are you quite sure you are 
aware of what it is you are about ?" 

"Sir," said he, " yes ; and from the first moment that I 
saw him, I have had no other thought." 

And while they were speaking, in came the Viscount 
de Beaumont, making the same request to the King. And 



144 ^^ History and pleasant Ohronich 

while the words were in his mouth, in followed the Lord 
de Craon, on the same errand ; and on the back of him, 
the Lord de Vergy ; then the Viscount de Quesnes, the 
Lord de Harcour, the Lord de Hangest, with several of the 
others ; all upon the same business. 

Then the King said to them, '' My Lords and friends ; 
first come have the first claim. You see here Saintre, 
before you all, and still on his knees. And though, un- 
questionably he is not of your years, our Lord is the God 
alike of the strong and of the weak, of the old and of the 
young. And as much as He is for the strong, so much is 
He for the weak ; and as much as He is for the young, so 
much is He for the old. And for this reason, it seems to 
us, that it would be offering him an injustice to deny him, 
seeing how much his heart is set on it." 

Then they all rose, allowing to the reasonableness of 
his will and pleasure ; and better satisfied to find Saintre 
chosen than they had been to see one of themselves. Then 
Saintre, as humbly as he could, thanked the King And, 
,, for the following day, the King requested the company of 
^ the Lord de Loyselench, the other four Barons, and Knights 
and Squires who were with them. And all sorts of honours 
were paid them. And after dinner, and that they had 
danced with the Ladies, the Queen, who was present, most 
condescendingly entertained them ; inquiring of them, 
through interpreters, about the Ladies, and the manners of 
their country ; and telling them, how vexed she was to be 
unable to understand them. And when the dances were 
over, and before the dessert, and the stirrup-cup had been 
handed round, the French Mountjoy King-at-arms, by 
order of the King, read the letter-of-arms ; present .the 
Queen, Lords, Ladies in plenty. And when the letter was 
read, Mountjoy demanded of the said Knight, " Were he 
the party who had written that letter, and did he allow 
to it?" 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 145 

And when what was asked had been explained to the said 
Knight, he answered, " That that was his seal ; and that 
all which was in it, he had come to make good." 

Then Saintre went on his knees before the King, and 
made him confirm his licence. Then he rose and said to 
the Knight, '* My Lord, you are very welcome ; and, with 
the grace of God, our Lady ; and of my Lord, Saint 
Michael ;'^^^ I will release you from your vow, and from 
the hoops and the chains in which you are fettered." 

And then he advanced to remove the hoops. And when 
the Knight saw Saintre, so young and slight-looking, 
taking himself to be trifled with, he stepped back, saying 
to his people, in his Polish, " And is this the way I am to 
be delivered ; surely there must be another sort of man in 
such a Court as this ?" 

Then it was explained to him, who he was, and how 
high he stood in the graces of the King ; and how he had 
already fought in Arragon, as well on horse as on foot ; 
and how, on both occasions, he had come oflf with honour. 
Then looking at him again, closely, he presently said, "If 
such is the case, I have no right to take exception : 
since he wishes it, let it stand : such men are often more 
formidable than those of twice their appearance." 

Then it was told to Saintre, that he had deliberated to 
go through with it ; and that he was to do as the letter 
required ; and that the Knight thanked him with all his 
heart. Then Saintre removed the fetters and chains ; 
and this done, the King appointed the thirtieth day from 
that for the combat on horseback ; and then he withdrew 
to his chamber. Then Saintre, carrying the two fetters of 
gold ; the one before, and the other behind, with the 
chain around his neck : toorether with the rest of the 
company, conducted the said Knight to his hotel. 

And now I will give over to speak of the great honours, 
and of the good cheer which were made him, as long as 

L 



146 TJie History and pleasant Chronicle 

he was there, and I will tell you of all the piteous sorrows 
of Madame's heart, and of all the touching things she said 
to Saintre. 



CHAPTER XLIX. 

How Madame bemoaned herself to Saintre, and of the tender 
things she said to him. 

MADAME, who, till the time the hoops were taken 
off, had never seen the Knight, when she came to 
find him so tall and big of bone, was so terribly frightened, 
and so repented her of what she had been spiriting on 
poor Saintr^ to, that all her peace of mind was gone. But 
seeing the length to which matters had proceeded, and 
that there was no way of getting out of it, she found that 
there was nothing left for her, day nor night, but to bewail 
and to bemoan herself. And as she wept, she cried, 
" Alas, wretched I, and what hast thou done ; what were 
you thinking of when you thus put it in his head, and 
deliberately goaded on to all these extremities, the man, 
of all men, whom you loved the best; you, too, who 
should have been the first to dissuade him from all such 
foolery. Alas, he is pitted with a man, such an adept, so 
large, so powerful, that the stoutest might well think twice. 
What is to become of me? for, either let him fall, be 
wounded in his person, or his honour, which, heaven 
defend — broken, embittered, lost, never again shall this 
poor heart know peace. And what is worse than all this, 
peradventure he will detest you; and, conscience tells 
you, not without a cause. Though true it is, that I 
never prayed for anything more than to see him famous 
among the paladins, the great, the good, the virtuous of 
the land. And to the truth of this, my God, I call 
thee to witness, as also thy blessed Mother, to whom I 
dedicate him, ^^^ armed with all his armour, on his war- 



of little Jehan de SaintrL 147 

horse, the whole weighing three thousand pounds ; here 
on my knees, and with clasped hands, imploring of you, 
Virgin, that, in safety and in honour, he may be brought 
back to me." And when Madame had ended her prayers, 
she came to where the Queen was ; and, in a little, she 
perceived Saintre. Then she made her signal ; and 
Saintre, who, on his side, was no less anxious to speak 
with her, as instantly replied to her. And when the 
night was come, and the hour besides, and they were 
together, Madame, finding him all radiant, all at once 
altered her way of thinking, and all her great fear was 
turned into as great confidence. So she said to him, 
"Now, my friend, what you have to do, you must do 
stoutly and commendably, winner or loser. And a fig for 
the kind of man he is ; don't you be alarming yourself 
because he looks, and is so much bigger and stronger than 
you are. What, and if he is a giant ? remember that there 
is a God above us all, and that he will be on the side of 
tliose, his friends, who are in extremity, and who seek to 
him with their whole heart. And you have no cause to 
be under apprehension ; for the strong despise the weak, 
and combat in their pride : whilst the feeble, they look to 
God for aid, and he gives it, and is for them, be they man, 
or be they woman. There is no battle was ever gained 
of other than of God. And if the battle be of those who 
are, in prowess, or in numbers, equal ; and who all, with 
like heart, seek their aid of God, then will God look well 
who is in the right ; for God is the true judge, and will 
render unto each one his desert. So, my friend, let 
come what God will, however much or little it may be ; 
and though, alongside of you, he may topple, a very 
giant, in no case can any disgrace come of your failure ; 
for I have heard it said, by those who understand these 
matters, that the gentleman who gratuitously engages him- 
self, that is, without malice or quarrel, even though he gets 



148 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

the worst of it, is for all that more to be considered than he 
was before ; for, albeit men fight, it is God who gives the 
victory, and to whom he will. And as for the expense 
and your clothes, his entertainment, all that is my aflfair. 
Here is a purse with six thousand ecus ; let them be 
employed as they should be, and God be with you." 

The Authoe. 
Saintre, who saw the love of Madame towards him, to 
increase from day to day, as handsomely as he could, 
thanked her. To be short, he then took leave of her ; 
and such was his delight, with this new prospect before 
him, that he never slept a wink that night. And as soon 
as it was day, and he had heard mass, and had said his 
prayers, he got to work, and never halted till, with the 
help of God, of the King, and Madame, he had got him 
his horses, his clothes, his armour, and everything in 
order. To tell you, in a word, how he was equipped ; it 
was as a royal Baron. And now I will speak no more of 
all these things, and of all the noise there was of the 
coming arms, and of all the prayers that were offered up 
for him, by reason he was so young, and small, in com- 
parison of this Polish Knight, any one of whose blows one 
would imagine to be enough to demolish him ; and I will 
turn to the combat, as was appointed. 



CHAPTEK L. 

How the Lord de Loiselencli and Saintrd came into the lists, to per- 
form their arms on horseback : present, the King, the Queen, and 
many Lords and Ladies. 

The opening portion of this Chapter is omitted ; offering no sort 
of entertainment to a modern reader. — Translator. 

***** 

* ^ * ^ And after him came Saintre ; on his right hand 
the Duke of Anjou and of Touraine, wishing to show him 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 149 

every honour. And after them followed a crowd of 
Knights and Squires, who had made up their minds to be 
with him. And wlien he came to the entry of the lists, 
like a good Christian, he made the sign of the cross with 
his banner, repeating his benediction, as Madame had in- 
structed him. And when Madame saw him, he appeared 
to her, if possible, even more lovely than he had ever 
done. And incontinent all her great affection was stirred 
up again within her, and all her agony and remorse, for 
all the peril she had been the means of bringing him into, 
and of which she now repented her ; so that, do what she 
would, she could not so command herself, but that, in a 
little time, she fainted and she fell. And when the Queen 
and the other Ladies saw her swoon, as one dead, having 
no idea of her real malady, so as not to disturb the King, 
or the rest of the company, they set to to rub her temples 
and her palms with vinegar, and to apply the usual reme- 
dies. And so effectually did they rub her, and attend to 
her, that, at last, she came round. Then, by degrees, she 
began to open her eyes, then to look this way, then that ; 
now on one side, now another ; then to speak, but only to 
say, " Ha, support me, ever blessed Lady !" Then they 
comforted her as well as they could ; but not for anything 
that the Queen could say or do would she be induced to 
turn her eyes again toward the lists. 

The Authoe. 

Saintre now entered the lists, and, smiling to himself, 
looked up into the King's box, and then into that of the 
Ladies. And in passing, he removed his cap, and saluted 
them as lowly as he was able ; and when he missed 
Madame, he was at first taken back. However, he 
quickly recovered himself, concluding how it was ; that 
Madame simply had not had the heart to see it out, as she 
had already assured him she never would. * * * 



150 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

A considerable portion is suppressed here. The nsnal stereotype 
amount of compliment, extravagance, courtesy, and blows, is to be 
found in this account, as in that of every other combat of the times. 
— Translator, 



* * * . And when the Queen and the other Ladies 
saw the Lord de Loiselench to be thus disarmed, they all 
ran together to Madame, who was lying stretched on some 
cushions, making her prayers to God, and to our Lady of 
Leisse, to whom, as has been said, in her passion she had 
dedicated him. And the Queen said to her, ''Eeally, fair 
Cousin, you must get up : you have no conception what is 
going on. Here is fair son, Saintre, has disarmed this 
Pole; and my Lord has stopped the whole thing, and 
ordered them both up." 

Madame, who, on hearing this, felt as if an incredible 
load was off her mind, nevertheless pretended not so much 
as to catch a word. Then the Queen said to her, '' By 
my faith, fair Cousin, you have made it plain enough 
this day how little it matters to you, had this game young 
fellow lost or won. However, unfortunately for ourselves, 
my Lord and I cannot take these things quite so coolly ; 
you would be better in the air than here." Then the 
Queen took her by one hand, and another Lady by another, 
and led her to the front of the box. 

Presently Madame, who was now beginning to be her- 
self again, availing herself of the reproach the Queen had 
cast in her teeth, said to her, " Ho, Madame ; but how 
came this giant of a Pole to be disarmed?" Then the 
Queen told her how it all went, and how Saintre had 
broken the first lance, and how he had struck the Knight's 
silver ox, and turned it with the tail forwards, and how 
he had disarmed him. And when all this was telling, 
Madame, out of her ecstacy, never once could take her 
eyes off Saintre. And Saintre kept looking for her in 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 1 5 1 

every direction ; and at last, on a sudden, his eyes met 
hers. Then Madame made him her signal, to which, 
right graciously, he responded. * * * 

There is another omission, purposel}^, at this place. — Translatcr. 

The Author. 

And in the evening, after they had made their signals, 
they met in the meadow. Then were kisses scattered and 
devoured by thousands. Is it not enough ? none would 
believe felicity could be more. Then Madame said to 
him, ^' Alas, my joy, my sovereign, and my only weal, at 
the time I never thought again to see you alive. And 
when you first came into the lists I was in such a terror 
to think of you, and my heart so sunk within me, that I 
fell down as one dead ; and I verily do believe, if they had 
not come to me I should have died upon the spot. But 
as soon as I heard the famous news, on the instant I was 
brought to life again : for Madame, with the other Ladies, 
who came to help me, brought me them." And when 
Saintre heard her, he said, ''Alas, my noble dame, what 
is this you are telling me ? God, had I known this, where 
had been, in such an hour, this wretched arm of mine ! I 
had rather have died than have failed to acquit myself 
with honour. But God be praised and be thanked, I 
knew nothing of all this. When first I entered the lists 
I saw you with the Queen, among the other Ladies ; and 
afterwards, when I came armed, and missed you, I merely 
thought that your courage had failed you at the last, as you 
had told me you were sure it would do, and so I troubled 
myself no more about it. So, my most redoubted dame, 
praise be to God, and to our Lady, for the honour which, 
this day, you have won me ; wishing you ever, Madame, 
more and more felicity. So I beg of you to keep up your 
spirits, for the God who was with me when I fought on 
horse will be also for me when I fight on foot." And with 



152 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

these words they took, one of the other, a solemn adieu. 
And now I will cease to speak of their affairs, and tell you 
of the other combat, and how it passed. 



CHAPTEE LI. 

How the Lord de Loiselench and Saintre entered the lists, to 
perform their arms on foot. 

The account of this combat is omitted. It is hardly necessary to 
say, that the address and activity of Saintre prove to be more than 
a match for the prov^ess of the Pole. — Translator, 

***** 

* * * . And now I will say no more of how the prizes 
were given, and will turn to the incredible joy of the 
Queen, of Madame, the other Ladies and Gentlewomen, 
and how Madame, took to her devotions. 

Then the Queen, and Madame, with the other Ladies 
and Gentlewomen, never for a moment ceased to laugh 
and to make themselves merry ; so gratified were they, 
for the sake of Saintre, who had come off the better. And 
when Madame, who never once could remove her eyes 
from Saintre, recollected how unmistakeably all this had 
come through the manifest interposition of our Lord, who 
had permitted it at the request of our Lady, she thought it 
but right she' should thank him ; so, feigning that her head 
ached, she told the Queen, '' that she must pardon her, 
for she could sit up no longer." To which the Queen 
replied, '' Fair Cousin, by all means, go." And when 
Madame had lain down in the retreat at the back of the 
box, she sent away all her women. Then she rose, and on 
bared knees, and with joined hands, she lifted up her eyes to 
heaven, and devoutly tendered her thanks to God and to our 
Lady, for all the favour they had already shown to Saintre, 
entreating them to be pleased to continue the same. And 
as soon as her devotions were ended, finding herself com- 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 1 5 3 

pletely restored, she returned, all gracious, to the Queen. 
Whilst Saintre, who, from time to time, and often, had 
been looking towards the Ladies, when he missed her, 
becfan to fear that it was aojain with her as it had been. 
So that, when he saw ier come back, his heart danced 
within him an hundred thousand times lighter than before. 
And now I will say no more of these matters, and will 
tell of how the prizes were given. 



CHAPTER LII. 

The manner the King ordered the prizes to be distributed. 

THEN the King, who held in his hand eight great 
jewels, which were the prizes, four on one side, and 
four on the other, to give at his good pleasure, desired the 
said French Mountjoy, King-at-arms, to pronounce his 
decision as follows. Then the herald, having enjoined 
silence, with a loud voice, on the part of the King, read, 
so that all might hear, " My Lord de Loiselench, and you, 
Jehan de Saintre, the King, our sovereign Lord, here 
present, has empowered and ordered me to tell you that, 
in both encounters, you have each done well and valiantly ; 
but seeing that you, my Lord de Loiselench, found your- 
self, in each case, unable to go through with them under 
the conditions which, by your own letter, were stipulated, 
he, as sole arbiter and judge, desires you to dispose of your 
four prizes as you engaged ; and which prizes, with his 
consent, approbation, and orders, I now hand to you." 
And when the Lord de Loiselench saw that Mountjoy had 
finished, he asked, " What it was that he had said ?" And 
when it was explained to him, and he understood the 
sentence of the King, for it was no more than he ex- 
pected, on his knees, he humbly thanked the King, and 
told him, '' how bitterly he regretted the ill luck that had 



154 ^^ History and pleasant Chronicle 

prevented him from finishing his arms, as well on horse as 
on foot, thus depriving the Ladies of so long an expected 
entertainment. But seeing that such was his fate, he 
was willing to submit to it, as he required him ; and 
that, as reason was, he was prepared to obey him." And 
when he had said this, Mountjoy descended, handing him 
the four jewels, so that he might dispense them. And 
when* he had received them, he went toward Saintr^, 
to give them to him ; but when he reached him, his 
heart was so full, that, so much as a word, he was unable 
to utter. Then the four Polish Barons who were with 
v/him, and who well knew the cause of all his distress, as 
well as they were able, what was to be said for him, 
said. Then Saintre, whom Monsieur d'Anjou was escort- 
ing, advanced, and bowing himself, and taking the four 
jewels, said, '' My Lord, my brother, for the honour you 
are pleased to do me, I thank you as heartily as I have 
words to do." Then the trumpets and the clarions began 
to blow in such a manner that one would almost fancy 
they could never stop, * * * 

The remainder of this Chapter is omitted. — Translator, 



CHAPTER LIII. 
How the Lord de Loiselench supped with the King. 

This Chapter is omitted. — Translator. 



CHAPTER LIV. 
How the Lord de Loiselench took his leave. 

Ahout a twelvemonth after the departure of the Pole, Madame, as 
usual, solicitous for the honour of her proteg^, began to think it were 
time to get him again to work. And satisfied, probably, with his 
previous performances, she now determines to measure him with 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 155 

" foemen worthy of his steel " — the Enghsh ; and so, a grand tourna- 
ment is brought about upon the Calais marches. Though there is 
much that is curious, in a mere antiquarian point of view, in this 
Chapter, touching truces, passports, arms, temporary barracks, tents, 
furniture, &c., I have passed it all over ; unwilling to weary the 
more general reader. — Translator, 

The commencement of the Passage of Arms. 

AND the Sunday, the first day of the month, and the 
opening of the tournament, arrived the said lord, the 
Earl of Buckingham ; and it was after mass, and a great 
company was with him ; and he fixed on the pinnacle of 
his barrack, his banner, quartered with that of England, 
with a border of silver ; and his cry was " England ! 
Saint George !" 

The Author. 

And when the hour was come when the tournament 
was to open, the judges, the Kings-at-arms of Champaigne, 
and Garter, accompanied' by their heralds, mounted into 
their boxes, that they might the better see. Then the 
tilting commenced, which was terrible, fierce, and honour- 
able alike to each party. And although the Earl in the 
last course was a little hurt, nevertheless, as his lance 
was better broken, he won the diamond. 

The second day came the Earl Marischal, who also had 
his banner, splendidly waving, on the top of his hut ; and 
his cry was "England ! St. George !" He also did famously, 
but as Saintre broke his lances better, he got the diamond. 

The details of the remaining courses are purposely omitted — 
Translator, 

The Author. 
***** 

* * * . And of this course the judges were unable to 
decide, for the lances had been so evenly broken that they 
could not determine which had the better. So, at last, 
they had almost agreed that each was to keep his own 
prize. However, it was finally arranged that neither was to 



156 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

be considered either to have lost or to have won ; and they 
were ordered each to pay the other, and the Earl to begin, 
for Saintre had broken the first. And so Saintre lost 
three diamonds and won eight, which make eleven ; and 
the twelfth was exchanged. 

The Author again. 

Here follows a tedious narrative of all the courtesies and presents 
interchanged between Saintre and the English Lords, Heralds, &c. ; 
and which is consequently omitted. — Translator. 



CHAPTER LY. 

How Sir Nicolles de Malle-Teste, and Gallias of Mantua, Squire, 
came to the Court to perform their arms. 

THE fifth day after Saintre had returned, there arrived 
at Paris two young noblemen of that part of Italy 
which we call Lombardy, the one a Knight, the other a 
Squire, and with them was a great company. And they 
were returning, having fought before the Emperor, with 
the Lord de Unal Lembergue, whose arms were d'ermines 
a ung escusson de guelles ; and the Lord de Stambourg, 
whose arms were trois tourteaiilx de guelles, in vindication 
of the enterprise the Lombards had undertaken, but which 
was still in abeyance ; as the Emperor, who had seen the 
battle, as well on horse as on foot, to be fierce and hard, 
for the honour of either party, had ordered it to be 
stopped ; and so it came, that though the one side was 
satisfied, the other was just where it was, and had as much 
to be released as ever* 

The Author. 
And when they had got to Paris, and had put up at the 
Hotel de rOurs, by the Baudois barrier^ they were recog- 
nized by a herald of the King, who had seen one of them 
before. And when he had got to know what brought 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 157 

them, he immediately went and told the King : present, 
the Queen and Madame. Then Madame sent, in all 
haste, for Saintre, and, at the same time forbade the 
herald to say a word to any one about their arrival. And 
when Saintre had com.e, she told him as quick as she 
could, all about these Lombards ; how they had come, in 
such state, to carry through their arms. And when she 
had told him, she put it to him, " If he thought he had 
the heart to be one of the two to deliver them ?" 

*' Heart !" said he, " Alas, Madame, and what have you 
ever perceived in me to lead you to suppose I now should 
shrink from what I never shrunk before ?" 

*' Then," said she, ''to lose no more time, before the 
news spreads, off with you to Bouciqualt, your brother, 
and, above all others, let him be your second." 

And when Saintre heard of Madame these famous 
tidings, he thanked her as humbly as he could, without 
however, making any outward demonstration. Then he 
made for Bouciqualt, and when he found him, he said, 
" Brother, Grod and our Lady for ever, I bring you glorious 
news ! An hour ago there alighted, at the Hotel de 
I'Ours, by the barrier Baudois, two gentlemen of Lom- 
bardy, with no end of state, and they have come on some 
affair of honour, and are looking for one, or rather two, to 
deliver them. What say you, shall we do their business 
for them ?" 

"Deliver them !" said Bouciqualt. " Brother, welcome 
you and your news ; and, as heartily as I can, I beg and 
pray of you that, so as to be the first, we set off this 
instant to find the King." 

Which they did ; but it was not without much dis- 
puting, and great prayers that he would listen to them. 
However, at last, he consented ; but he determined, first, 
to know more about them, and what was the nature of 
their engagement. Then they sent the Guyenne King- 



158 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

at-arms, an old stager and an experienced herald, to 
ascertain exactly how the matter was; which herald 
brought them back word that there were two ; the one 
a Knight, called Sir NicoUes de Malle-Teste, an highly con- 
sidered, a noble and puissant Baron of the Ancona Mar- 
ches ; and the other a Lombard Squire, of a great house, 
and named Gallias of Mantua. And that each of them 
were wearing on the elbows of their left arms a great hoop 
of gold, all set in precious stones ; and that they were 
under an engagement to visit the courts of the six 
Christian Kings, for among the Saracens they dared not 
trust themselves, till such time as they should meet with 
two Knights or Squires of fame and name, without re- 
proach, as were they themselves, who would jSght with 
them, with battle-axes simply, and broadswords, till one 
or other party was borne to the ground, or had been 
deprived of their weapons. This Gallias, of Mantua, was, 
I believe, that famous Knight who fought in mortal 
combat with Sir Jehan le Maingre, Mareschal of France, 
in the presence of the last Prince of Padua. It was a 
little while before the Venetians, by persisting in the 
siege, had become master of his person. The same was 
afterwards cast in prison and strangled, which was an 
irreparable loss to many ; for, all through Italy, he had 
been reputed as a father and hospitaller to the straggling 
and the travelling Knights and Nobles. 



^^^ 



of little Jehan de Saintre, , 159 



CHAPTER LYI. 

How Saintr^ and Boiiciqualt went in search of the two champions, 
to bring them to the King of France ; and of how they fought 
with them. 

The Author. 

BUT to return to the matter in hand. When Saintre 
and Bouciqualt heard the glorious news, they, as 
becoming Knights, at once amorous and valiant, hurried 
away to the King, telling him the whole affair at length, 
and asking permission to satisfy them. And when the 
news had spread abroad how the Lombards had come, and 
how the King had already named Saintre and Bouciqualt, 
of course every one saw that it was useless to make any 
more entreaty. Then the two brothers, with a large re- 
tinue, and seemingly simply to make their acquaintance, 
and to do them honour, learned from their own mouths 
the nature of their undertaking, as you have heard. And 
when the time was come, the King wanted to see them. 
Then Saintre and Bouciqualt, and a number with them, 
went to conduct them ; and by the King, the Queen, and 
all the Lords they were given a very hearty welcome. 
Why should I be tedious ? Saintre detached the one hoop 
from the arm of Sir NicoUes, and Bouciqualt the other, 
from that of Gallias. And then the king appointed the 
day. And when the day was come, and the King, the 
Queen, and the Lords, and Madame, and all the rest, were 
in their boxes, and the champions in their pavilions ; all 
the honours and the triumphs, to be brief, I will omit. 
The King who, before his other battles, had always sent 
for Saintre, and begged to be allowed to Knight him, did 
the like on this occasion. But he had always excused 
himself, and did so still, protesting " that he never would 
be made one, unless it was under the banner of the Sara- 
cens, and against them." 



i6o The History and pleasant Chronicle 

And when they had been to their pavilions, and had 
taken their oaths, and had again left their tents, and the 
Mareschal had drawn up his edict, then all four, who had 
been sitting upon stools opposite to one another, rose, and, 
like lions unloosed, rushed upon each other. Then was 
the battle stern and terrible ; nor, for a long time, could 
any one say which side had the better, till, at last, as ill- 
luck would have it, Saintre had his axe sent flying by 
Sir NicoUes, and at this if Madame and all his party 
were aghasted, I leave you to think : but he, as an un- 
daunted Squire, without so much as yielding an inch of 
ground, incontinent drew his sword, and taking it in both 
his hands, each time that Sir NicoUes raised his axe, with 
his swoops prevented him from approaching. So he kept 
him at his distance ; but at length Sir NicoUes, by reason 
of the great advantage that his axe gave him, made a 
rush, and succeeded in driving, by a left-handed blow, the 
edge into one of the openings in Saintre's vizor, com- 
pletely stunning him, * * * so that Saintrd, slipping 
aside by his own proper weight, Sir NicoUes fell upon all 
fours. Then, on the instant, Saintre lifted his sword to 
strike him on the side, so as to knock him over ; but, 
recollecting himself, out of a sense of honour, he let it faU. 
Then he ran to the assistance of his brother, who had 
already won more than a lance's length on Gallias. And 
while Saintr^ was running to him, Sir NicoUes had got up, 
having still his axe in his hand, and was making for 
Saintre ; but the King, when he saw it, ordered him to be 
stopped. Then Gallias, who was now fighting with two, 
being quickly borne to the ground, handsomely confessed 
the day was lost * * *. 

The remainder of this Chapter, presenting no sort of interest, is 
omitted. — Translator, 




of little Jehan de Saintre. .. i6i 



CHAPTER LVII. 

How Saintr^ tilted against the Baron de Tresto, and they were 
adjudged equal. 

The opening portion of this Chapter is passed over. Suffice to 
say, that the prowess of the English Baron is allowed to, with all 
the wonted liberality of these old, inveterate, chivalrous and tradi- 
tional rivals and foemen of our race ; as well in letters as in arms — 
the French. — Translator, 

The Author. 

AND thus increased Saintre in the good graces of the 
King, the Lords, Madame, and everybody else. In 
a word, he was the most loved and honoured of all the 
Squires of France, and this on account of his great gentle- 
ness and humility, as also of his generosity, which helps 
much. And neither for all the account that the King 
made of him, nor for all the court was paid to him on 
every hand, was one spark of pride ever once detected in 
him. And a little after, or about this time, news came to 
him that his father was dead, and by this means he be- 
came the Lord de Saintr^. 



CHAPTER LYIII. 

How the Lady asked Saintre to set out for Prussia, against the 
Saracens, and he promised to go ; and how the King made him 
the head of five hundred lances. 

The opening portion of this Chapter is passed over. Th^ reader 
should know that this crusade was against the Pagans, here con- 
founded with the Saracens. — Translator. 

* * *. And to accompany his banner he ordered that 
from the twelve marches of his empire should be chosen 
fifty. And when the news spread abroad about the king- 
dom, Lords and nobles came flocking up in such numbers 
that the King was compelled to grant his licence to one 

M 



1 62 Tlie History and pleasant Chronicle 

hundred and sixty banners, whom he put under the orders 
of Saintr^. And when Saintre, whose excuses the King 
would not admit of, had thanked the King, he called all 
the Lords together, and said to them, laughing, ''My 
Lords, you have seen how the King, out of his grace, and 
in spite of everything I could say to the contrary, has 
determined to put all this honour upon me, and give me 
all this great charge, sufficient in itself for a Prince of the 
blood. Faith, methinks, my Lords, I am pitched upon 
on the principle of the youngster of a monk the story 
tells of. 

There was once a Lord who, with all his trappings and 
his folk about him, went to an abbey not far from his 
house, to hear mass. And when the mass was said, out 
there came running five or six little rascals, monklings of 
the place, who began unbuckling his spurs. And when 
he found all the young rogues tugging away at his heels, 
he asked, " What on earth it was they were at ?" Then 
his people told him, laughing, that it was the custom in 
all churches to redeem one's spurs, which, otherwise, were 
forfeited to the choir. So, giving them an ecus, he called 
the youngest and simplest looking of the pack of them to 
him, and said to him, " Which, of the lot of you, has the 
oldest head?" to which the child, without any sort of 
hesitation, replied, " Whichever Damp Abbot pleases." 
And the reply was thought worth remembering, and, 
methinks, the cap fits here too. For, albeit, I am the 
simplest of you all here present ; nevertheless, since the 
King has been pleased to say I am the wisest, I suppose 
there is nothing for it but that it must be so." 

And then they all began to laugh, and they told him, 
'' That the King knew well what he was about, and that 
they would be well satisfied and delighted to serve under 
him." 

And now I will speak no more of these matters, and 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 163 

will tell you of tlie Lords, Barons, and banners that went, 
and whose arms follow. 

The Author. 

Here follow the names of the Princes and Lords who went to 
Prussia against the Saracens : and first, of those of the Marches of 
the Isle of France. 

The remainder of this Chapter, though invaluable in an heraldic 
point of view, is, in other respects, of no sort of interest ; and, accord- 
ingly, it is passed over. The hundred and sixty heroes, it is hardly 
necessary to say, are entirely composed of the Montmorencys, 
Chabots, Clermonts, Piohans, with the like great feudal and historic 
names. — Translator. 



CHAPTER LIX. 

How, when the time was come, that they were to set out for Prussia, 
the King gave his standard to Saintre, constituting him his Lieu- 
tenant. — And after, how the said Saintre and the other Lords 
took their leave of the King, the Queen, and the Ladies ; and of 
the great mourning there was at their departure ; especially on 
the part of Madame. 

AND when, at length, the thne to set out was come, 
and all the company were ready, and they had got 
their harness and their baggage together, and their bag- 
gage carts, and all their people, wearing red jackets, with 
the white cross in front, then Saintre, and also all the 
nobles, who were dressed in the same manner, having 
heard mass, which the Archbishop sung at Is otre Dame, at 
Paris, as soon as they had confessed themselves, received the 
Papal benediction and absolution. Then, in the presence 
of the King, the royal banner was blessed ; then, the others 
were. Then they returned with the King, and all went 
to dinner. And when it came to two of the clock they all 
went in a body to the King, who was in the great hall : 
present the Queen, Lords, and Ladies. And when they 
had told him how they were all come to bid him farewell, 
and they had all got on their knees, the King said to 



1 64 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Saintre, " Saintre, I put this expedition into your hands, 
as also the charge of this banner, which represents my 
person ; with the Lords and other noble gentlemen here 
present^ and who are to be with you." Then, turning to, 
and looking on the others, he said, " My friends, you are 
all noble, and come of noble houses ; houses that have been 
ever fertile of valiant men, and whose representatives you 
have ofttimes proved yourselves to be. And seeing that 
you are this day about to embark yourselves in the service 
of the true God, Jesus Christ, and in which is to be pur- 
chased the eternal salvation of your souls, I commend unto 
you all this, my banner of the true Cross, with the care, 
besides, of your own honours. Mortals fight, but God 
gives the victory to those who are his. And it is not to 
be doubted, but that if you and the other Christian Lords 
and Princes, with the remainder who will have to fight, 
are so well in the sight of God that he will be well with 
you ; let the power of the Saracens be what it may, or 
their numbers as the sands upon the sea-shore, they will 
be brought to nought before you. And as for myself, I 
swear to you on my faith, that were it not for the weighty 
affairs at home on hand, I had been one of your company ; 
but it is not to be thought of. And there is one thing I 
do pray of you, from the greatest to the least, and that is, 
that you will be to one another friends and brothers, with- 
out bearing any sort of envy^ grudge, noise, or quarrel ; 
for throuofh such bickerinor, it oftentimes comes that com- 
panics are broken and put to the worse." And then he 
took his banner, and handed it to the Lord de Chateau- 
Froumont, to carry. Then he said to them all, " JMow, 
my friends, as your King and as your chief, I am about to 
give you all my blessing." Then, lifting his hands, he 
made the sign of the cross, and said, " In the name of 
God the Father, our Creator ; in the name of God the 
ISon, our Redeemer; and in the name of God the Holy 



of littte Jelian de Saintre. 165 

Spirit, the God Illuminator : one God in three names and 
in three persons, may you all go. Those of you who are 
never to return he will take to himselfj and those of you 
who are, it will be to the redemption of your souls in the 
world to come, and to your eternal fames in this. And 
this I need hardly entreat of you, whatever befals you, 
whether you be the victors, or whether you be the van- 
quished, let all be done in honour ; and if with any of you it 
otherwise is, I pray you, spare these eyes to see him more !" 
And having delivered these words, the tears running down 
his eyes, and his voice half choked, he said, taking them 
all by the hand, " My friends, God be with you I" 

Tlien might you have seen many a gentle breast was 
like to rend, and eyes to pour their last ; nor was there 
man or woman present could so much as speak a word. 

Then they went to the Queen, who, with the other 
Ladies, had been obliged to leave to hide her tears. Then 
Saintre began to speak in the name of all, and said, 
" Sovereign Lady, are there any commands you would 
deign to put upon us ?" 

Then the Queen turned to them, and without saying so 
much as a word, touched them each one by the hand. 

Then they went to my three Lords, the King's brothers, 
and made the same demand. Then said my Lord of 
Anjou, " Saintre and the rest, my fair cousms and my 
good friends, you have heard what my Lord the King has 
said to you : go with a good heart, begin as you should do, 
and, for the end, there need be no fear." 

Then they went to Madame. Of her I need hardly 
speak ; for although she stifled, with all her might, the 
agony of her soul in seeing Saintre, do what she would, 
she could not keep her limbs, and had certainly fallen if 
her Ladies had not supported her. 

Then they went to the other Ladies and Gentlewomen, 
who, all with one voice, broke out into such a lamentation 



1 66 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

and a wailing, that had all their friends and relatives been 
dead, they could not have wept more bitterly. And as 
they wept, they cried, " Alas ! alas ! for never again shall 
we look alive on all this joyous company !" And all the 
officers of the Court were in tears, and seeking, in vain, to 
comfort one another, crying, each one to his fellow, '' Alas ! 
alas ! for he is leaving us ; he who in all our troubles 
comforted us ; in all our little matters advised us ; and in 
all our wants befriended us ; and God only knows if ever 
again we are to see him !" And so, on all hands, was seen 
nor heard no other thing save weeping and mourning, and 
such as you would think had never ceased. And then 
they all went, for that night, to repose themselves. 

The Author. 
And when the morning was come, the trumpets began 
to tell them all, 'twas time to saddle and to boot. Then 
every man of them went to the minster. And after mass, 
they all got on their horses, and under way. Then the 
Lords of Anjou, Berry, and Bourgoyne, with all their 
people, met them, out of honour toward the King's banner. 
And, besides them, were such a crowd of other Knights, 
Squires, Burgesses and Merchants of the town, that hardly 
a soul was left behind. 

The Order of the Banners. 
Some dry details are here passed over. — Translator, 

# # *^ And as they traversed the length of the town, 
every balcony, window, door, entrance, cranny, was covered, 
or choked with Ladies, Gentlewomen ; Citizens, and their 
wives, and people of all sorts and conditions, assembled to 
see these noble heroes pass. And, on every side, were 
tears, and groans, and sighs ; nor when they came in sight, 
was there man or woman could so restrain themselves, 
but that, convulsively, they would wring their hands ; all 



oj little Jehan de SaintrS. 167 

crying together after him, as far as he could hear, " Ah, 
Saintre, Saintre, gentle Squire ; Grod, may God go -with 
you ; and may you be brought again to us, and all your 
company, in safety and in honour !" And with this they 
vowed to God, masses, pilgrimages, and alms. 

And when they had got a little way out of Paris, they 
insisted that my Lords, and all the company should come 
no further. Then they all took leave of one another. And 
now I will dwell no more on their partings and their tears, 
or the great regrets of the King, the Queen, the Lords, 
the Ladies, and Gentlewomen, or on all they did ; and prin- 
cipally Madame, who never ceased to be on pilgrimages, to 
have masses said ; and in solitude, to weep, to mourn and 
to pray ; and, instead, I will tell you of Saintre, and of 
all his company, who, to their great joy, all arrived safe 
and sound, at the town of Torn, in Prussia. 

The Author. 
Thus, by their stages, Saintre, and all his men-at-arms, 
so made their way, that, at last, they got to the town 
of Torn, in Prussia, where all were to meet. And 
thei^ they found the Prelates, Princes, and Lords that 
follow ; the most part of whom were well pleased to hear 
of their coming, and went to meet them, out of respect to 
the King's banner. And when they saw Saintre, they 
were delighted to find with him so many nobles and their 
followers, so well equipped ; for, five or six thousand 
hardier men, one could nowhere find. 

The Author. 

Concerning the King of England; by reason of matters 

he had in hand, he neither would go himself, nor yet send. 

And it was not without great difficulty that he consented 

to allow the Lords, here named, to go. 

Here follow, in the original, tlie names and arms of eight Lords ; 
but omitted in this place. — Translator, 



1 68 TJte History and pleasant Chronicle 

* * ; which Lords took with them, one hundred lances, 
and three hundred archers. 

And to divide, and weaken the overwhelming power 
and assemblage of the Saracens, the four Kings of Spain ; 
that is to say, of Castile, of Arragon, of Portugal and 
Navarre, had allied themselves together, to war upon, by 
sea and by land, the Kings of Granada, of Maroc, and of 
Belmarine ; the nearest Saracens to them. But for all 
that, it did not prevent their numbers being something 
incredible, as you will after hear. 

The Prelates, and Princes, and other Lords, who were there. And 
first : — 

Here follows a roll now omitted. — Translator. 
The Assebennoys of the county of Alost, who were there. 

n* 5T^ ^jC ^ 3(C 

The Keysters of the Duchies of Lembourg, of Luxembourg, and 
Blancquebourg, who were there. 

***** 
The Bavarian Germans, who were there. 

♦ * * * «j{: 

The German Reysters of Brabant, who were there. 

The Holland and Zeland Eeysters, who were there. 
***** 

* * *. ^^"^^ In which assembly were from one hundred to 
one hundred and twenty horsemen ; from thirty to forty 
thousand Knights and Squires, completely armed ; be- 
sides bowmen and others, about one hundred and forty, or 
fifty thousand able men. 



-<^L^ 



i^r^ 



of little JeJian de Saintre, 1 69 



CHAPTEK LX. 

How the Saracens were in a greater number of Turks and infidels 
than had ever been seen together since the time of Mahomet. 

The Author. 

AND on the part of the Saracens was the battle more 
great than was ever seen since Mahomet gave the 
law. For all the Soldans, Kings, and Lords of the four 
regions were there : that is to say, of Asia Major, with 
its six provinces, namely, Judea, Persia, Syria, Egypt, 
Assyria, Arabia. That of Jndea is bounded, on the south, 
by the sea, commonly called The Black Sea, but others 
call it The Stormy Sea, on account of the horrible turmoil 
in which it is continually kept, by reason of the seven 
thousand five hundred and forty-eight islands that are in 
it ; one of which is very large, having ten cities in it. 
The principal is called Gelbona ; and in its chief city is 
an incredible amount of gold, and precious stones ; and 
elephants multiply more there than in any other quarter 
of the world. And this country was originally converted 
by Saint Thomas, the Apostle. However, the greater part 
of them are now recreants. 

The Author. 
And those of the second region of the Saracens who 
were there, were those of Persia, and of Turkey, and of 
their different provinces ; that is to say, Auffric, Media, 
Persia, Mesopotamia, where is the great city of Nineveh, 
which is three days' journey in length, and now called 
Babylon; and where are the foundations of the monstrous 
tower of Babylon, which are four thousand paces wide. 
And with them, came from the Provinces of Chaldea, of 
Arabia, of Sabaath, and Tarsus. And in this country is 
the mount of Sinai, where the Angels bore the body of 



I/O The nistory and pleasant Chronicle 

Madame, Saint Catherine, which now lies in the church of 
Saint Marie de Kuer, near the said Mount. 

The Author. 

And those of the third region who were there, were of 
the country of Syria, in which are the provinces of 
Damascus, of Antioch, of Phinicia. In them were Tyre 
and Sidon ; and there is Mount Lebanon, out of which 
comes the Eiver Jordan. And in it are the cities of 
Palestine, of Judea, of Jerusalem, of Samaria, of Gabeste, 
of Galilee, of Nazareth. And in this land were the 
two cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, which, for their 
abominable wickedness, were swallowed up in the abyss. 
And from these three regions came so many Kings, 
Lords, and such multitudes of every sort, that the whole 
country was covered with them; thinking, in their 
hearts, as you have heard, to conquer all the rest. And 
of which Lords of the Saracens I will afterwards name a 
few. 

The Author. 

And when the day appointed for the battle was come, 
and all the Christians were in the field, then they heard 
their high and solemn mass, which was chanted by the 
Archbishop of Cologne ; and being all, as became good 
Christians, in a state of grace, absolution was given to 
them by the Cardinal d'Aste, who was Legate from the 
Pope. And when every man had asked pardon of his 
neighbour, then those who wanted to breakfast, breakfasted. 
Then they mounted their horses, and made, each one, for 
his battle ; whilst Saintre, getting on his, went in search 
of the King of Bohemia. And when he was before him, 
he drew his sword ; and in the name of God, our Lady, 
and of my Lord, Saint Denis, he required him to confer 
on him the rank and order of Knighthood. Then the 
good King, who loved the good Jehan, and all the 



oj little Jehan de Saintre. 171 

French, dubbed him, with the greatest readiness, and 
gave him the order; praying God to give him all the 
honour and the success he could wish for. And from this 
time he was only known as the Lord de Saintre. Then 
all w^ho wished to be Knights stepped forward.^^^^ And 
many banners were unfurled, and the points of many a 
pennon cut. And when all this was over, each one re- 
turned to his place ; and when they had made the sign of 
the cross, they all began to move. 

The order of the Battles. 
^ This order is here omitted. — Translator, 

The order and disposition of the battles of the Saracens. 
This order is here omitted. — Translator, 



CHAPTER LXL 

How, in the battle of the Saracens, Saintre, at the very first on- 
slaught, slew the Grand Turk, and did so well his work, that all 
the infidels made way for him. — And then, of how the Emperor 
of Carthage, the two Soldans of Babylon, and Mabaleth, the Grand 
Turk, were killed ; with many others, as well on the one part as 
the other. 

This more than half apocryphal account of this great battle, offer- 
ing no kind of interest to a modern reader, is here suppressed. — 
Translator, 



ii^^-^^ 



1/2 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER LXII. 

How the news were "blown about everywhere, but especially into 
France, how Saintre had performed prodigies ; and of how, in par- 
ticular, among other things, he had killed the Great Turk, and 
trampled on his banner ; at which the King was greatly delighted, 
and thanked God, and all the Saints, in great solemnity. 

The Author. 

AND of tills most holy victory, the news soon spread 
abroad, on every hand, as did that of Perseus, by his 
Pegasus, the flying horse. For every one was writing of 
it into his own country, and how it had passed, and of all 
the valiant feats that had been performed. But above all 
else, of how a young, and new-made Knight of France, 
called the Lord de Saintre, was the theme of every tongue ; 
and how in the very first charge, he had killed the 
Grand Turk ; and after, performed such prodigies of valour, 
that he had made his way to the standard, taken it, 
and trampled it under his horse's hoofs ; with so many 
other incredible feats, that to describe them would be 
too long. 

The Author. 

And as soon as these most precious news were every- 
where confirmed, incontinent, all true Christians, of what- 
ever country they were, rushed to the churches; the 
bells being everywhere peeling out, to thank their Creator. 
And among the other Christian Princes, the King of 
France at once got on his horse, and went to the great 
church, to thank, first, God and our Lady, and then Saint 
Denis. And a little after, it came, that the Anjou King-at- 
arms arrived, who had been at the battle ; and he came to 
the King, and told him, by word of mouth, how the whole 
had been ; and how splendidly his nobles had behaved ; 



oj little Jehan de Saintre, 173 

those who survived, as well as those who fell ; but espe- 
cially, the Lord de Saintre, of whom, he said, all his 
letters were full. And when the King was certified of the 
truth of the matter, he presently exclaimed, '' Ha, great 
God, thine be the glory : have Thou mercy on those who 
this day, in Thy cause, have fallen!" And for these 
glorious tidings, he gave to the said King-at-arms the robe 
from his back, and three hundred ecus. Then was there 
such joy as one can well imagine, throughout the Court, the 
city, and the kingdom ; excepting only among such Ladies, 
Gentlewomen, and others, as had lost their lovers or their 
friends. And now I will say no more of them, or their 
matters ; but will return to the Lord de Saintre. 



CHAPTER LXIII. 

How Saintre and all his noble liost of French Christians, after the 
overthrow of the infidels, returned to Paris, where they were joy- 
fully received of the King^ the Queen, and all the realm. 

AND when the Lord de Saintre and all his chivalry had 
got to the church of Saint Denis, and had paid their 
devotions there j as they were entering into Paris, they 
were met by the three before-named Lord-dukes, and such 
an host of others, that hardly one remained behind. And 
in the same order and state that they had departed, they 
returned ; and descended in the court-yard of the Hotel 
Saint Pol j saving only the banners of such as had fallen, 
and those of the Lord du Chastel-Froumont, and the 
others, who had been left behind, wounded. And in his 
place, the* Lord de Maulevrier bore the King's banner, by 
the election of all. And when they came before the King, 
the Queen, Madame, and all the company, who w^ere in 
the great hall, and they had made their obeisance 
to the King; the King, who was seated, to do them 



1/4 ^^ History and pleasant Chronicle 

honour, and out of the great delight he was in, got on his 
feet, and went several paces forward to meet them. Then, 
to show them all how glad he was to see them, he took 
them each one by the hand. And when he had shaken 
hands with them round, the Lord de Saintre and the 
others went to make their reverence to the Queen, to 
Madame, and all the rest of the Ladies present, who were 
in the greatest spirits possible, to have them back ; ex- 
cepting only those that had lost their friends or relatives. 
And when they had paid the Ladies their respects, and 
kissed and embraced them all, the King, sitting down 
again in his chair, spoke as follows : — ''My friends, God be 
praised, and his blessed Mother, in honour and in triumph 
you have this day come back to us. Those of you who 
have fallen, I trust God will have mercy on their souls, 
as, according to our holy faith, we are all bound to believe, 
and that they are saved. Bat in order that our Lord may 
the sooner deliver their souls from the pains of purgatory, 
and take them to repose, and to his ever-glorious kingdom 
of Paradise, we will and ordain, that, at dusk, you will 
all be at Notre Dame ; and there we will have vespers said, 
and vigils for the dead ; and to-morrow we will have the 
commendatory, and solemn masses, which the bishop shall 
chant. And in all the other churches shall masses for the 
dead be said, and anywhere else that priests may happen 
to be ; so I have to beg that all of you will be forthcoming. 
And these services, we will and order to be continued for 
thirty successive days." 

Now, for the present, I will say no more of these 
matters, but will tell you how Madame, being impatient 
to speak with the said Lord de Saintre, made him her 
signal ; and how, by his, he replied to her. 



of little Jehan de SaintrL 175 

The Author. 

And after all these matters were over ; in the evening, 
when the King, the Queen, and all the Lords and Ladies 
were vieing who most could do honour to the returned 
Lords, especially the Lord de Saintre, Madame, who for all 
she pretended to care but little for what was going on, could 
not so far control the hurry of her heart, but that, before 
them all, she came up to him, and said, ''My Lord de 
Saintre, at least when you shall have received the respects 
of all the other Ladies, may I, in my turn, be allowed the 
privilege of seeing you ? Time was, I know well, you 
both passed for, and were an unpretending Squire ; mayhap 
now, a Knight, and my Lord to boot, access may not be 
quite so much a matter of course." 

And when she had done speaking, she took her pin, 
and made her signal, to which, instantly, the Lord de 
Saintre replied ; and, smiling, said, " Madame, whatever 
man I now am, or may have become, since last we met, 
believe me I am still the same I ever was." 

Then he fell into conversation with the others present. 
And when, after supper, the tables were removed, some 
of the younger sort began to hint about dancing. But 
when it came to the King's and Queen's ears, they said, 
" that out of a regard to the dead, it would ill become 
them to be showing themselves merry ; and that they 
would neither have dancing nor singing." 

And inasmuch as they were to be early next morn- 
ing at the church, he called for the dessert and the 
parting cup. 




I ^6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTEE LXIY. 

This Chapter, it were perhaps as well that the reader should read 
to him or herself. — Translator, 

How Saintre told the King that, to show that he was really glad to 
see him back, he should let him sleep with the Queen ; which the 
King promised him. — And how the Queen, quite tickled, asked 
him, "" What, on earth, had put such a piece of assurance into his 
head ?" — And after, how, at midnight, he went to speak with the 
Lady alone ; who gave him the kindest reception in the world ; 
not, however, without many kisses and embracings. 

The Author. 

AND wlien the King was in his chamber, the Lord de 
Saintre said to him, laughing, " Sir, to show that you 
are really in earnest in saying you are glad to see us back, 
I think you might for once stretch a point, and let me 
sleep to-night with the Queen." 

Then the King, no less a gallant than himself, and 
loving him heartily, besides, quite tickled at the idea, 
said, '^ Ever the same ; ever for the ladies ! faith, Saintre, 
then you shall." 

Then Saintre, laughing as hard as he could, made after 
the Queen, and when he found her, he said to her, " Ah, 
Madame, 1 have a boon at heart ; promise me I shall 
have it." 

And when the Queen saw him smiling, she said, *' And 
what, Saintre, is this great boon to ber" 

''Madame, grant it," said he, "and you shall hear 
after." 

"Hey, but you must tell me first," said she. '' I see 
well you want to make a fool of me." 

" Madame, it is a thing in which the King, yourself, 
and I, will all find our pleasure. Will you not believe me 
on my honour ?" 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 177 

* " On your honour, I will/' said she, " and, since such is 
the case, you shall have it with much pleasure." 

Then the Lord de Saintre said to her, " Then, Madame, 
be of good heart ; for, please the fates, this night, if the 
King has not been beforehand with me, I hope to make 
you the mother of a fine boy. The King, out of the good 
humour he is in to see me back, has promised me that I 
am to sleep with you." 

'' Hey," said the Queen, " and is this your boon ? You 
are a pretty fellow too. It is not two days since I slept 
with the King. But tell me, what was it put it into your 
head to make such a request to my Lord ?" 

''Madame," said he, " I will tell you. You know that 
when any Lord or Lady comes into the schoolroom when 
the scholars are at their lessons, at their demand the little 
people are dismissed and sent to play." 

" Ha," said she, " Saintre, that is not what really set you 
on. I charge you, by love and by arms, to tell me the truth." 
Then she caught him by the sleeve, and said to him, at least 
as far as I know, '' You are not going to get oflf that way." 

Then the Lord de Saintre called to Madame, and said 
to her, '' Help ! help ! here is the Queen wanting to force 
me !" And then he told her all about his prayer to the 
King, and how he had made it to the Queen. 

Then said Madame to the Queen, " Hey, Madame, let 
him go : he has told you the truth." 

" No," said she, " he has other game in hand ; for m.y 
Lord told me but yesterday, that he was wanting badly to 
see him, to speak with him about some matters ; and he 
has contrived all this in order to get away." 

Madame, who began to fear that this might be the case, 
alarmed lest their signals might be detected, the better to 
cover her manner, said to the Lord de Saintre, " Hey, 
sir, sir, if Madame follows my advice, she will get it out 
of you before she lets you go." 

N 



178 The Hutory and pleasant Chrcmicle 

Then he said to them, '' Ladies, will you give me your 
honours that, if I tell you the truth, afterwards you will 
let me go ?" 

^^ Yes, we will," said the Queen. 

'^ And you also, Madame ?^' said Saintre. 

*' Yes," said she, '^on my honour." 

Then he said, '' Madame, the fact of it is, for the last 
month or six weeks we have hardly a moment been off 
our legs, and, seeing the King wanted to have all we had 
been doing over, whilst I, on the contrary, was wanting to 
go home and get to my bed, I hit upon this way of making 
my escape.'* 

"Ha," said the Queen, "at length we have got the 
truth from him." 

Then said Madame, now venturing on her signal, 
" You are right, Madame ; now you may let him go." 

The Author. 
And at length the long longed-for hour was come, when 
Madame and her friend were to be with one another alone. 
What need I tell you more ? There were kisses given and 
snatched, as quick as ever they could follow ; a thousand 
interrogations put and satisfied, which love alone could 
respond to, or could prompt. And on this delightful 
footing they remained, meeting as often as fortune would 
indulge them, which was only when the Queen slept with 
the King ; for, othertimes, they were always in waiting 
about him. And all this felicity and infelicity continued 
fifteen months. And now I will say no more of their 
loves, which were so loyal, and so secret, that never, in 
this world, were loves more warily, more truly, or happily 
conducted. 



^^1^<^ 



of Utile Jehan de Saintre. 179 



CHAPTER LXV. 

How Saintr^ deliberated witli himself to wear a golden vizor for the 
space of three years ; and how the King consented to it, though 
much against his will. 

The Author. 

AND it happened, about fifteen months after his return 
from Prussia, that a new idea got into his head, and 
he was always saying to himself, " Alas, poor thoughtless 
that you are ; where is your invention ? Is there any 
one enterprise or thing you ever yet did, till you were put 
up to it by your ever gentle and your guardian goddess ? 
Faith, I am determined that, for her sake, something shall 
be done which the world shall ring with." 

^^^^Then he made up his mind to select five Knights, of 
which himself was to be one ; and five Squires, the 
stoutest and most famous to be found in France, and who 
were to be all together companions and brothers, and to 
wear vails covered with batchelors' buttons — of gold for 
the Knights, and of silver for the Squires — and a rich 
diamond was to be in the centre of each. And they were 
to wear them till they found a like number of Knights 
and Squires who would contest with them, in mortal 
combat, each of the said diamonds and as many of the like 
vails. And no one was to hear of it till the last day of 
April, when he was to put his scheme to the Knights and 
Squires whom he would elect. And when he had so far 
completed his plan, he sent to Florence a pattern of the 
vails, which were to be of white satin, richly figured ; and 
the robes of the Knights, and the caparisons of their horses 
were to be of the same. And, unknown to every one, he 
got together white horses, the most beautiful and spirited 
that money could procure, and had them stabled away in 
a secret place. And, besides, he had ten of the newest and 



i8o The History and pleasant Chronicle 

handsomest caps made, all broidered, and of one cut, with 
ostrich feathers, set in a clamp of gold for the Knights, 
and of silver for the Squires. And when the said cloth of 
satin had arrived from Florence, and the said horses were 
found, he then had the said satin cut into ten dresses, upon 
the measure of parties of the same height and build as 
those whom he had pitched on, and all was sown with 
gold and silver thread. But of these preparations no one 
knew. And when the following dajj the first of April, 
was come, he invited to sup with him the Lord de Pres- 
signy, the Lord de Beuil, the Lord de Mailly, Sir Hue de 
Craon ; with himself, making five Knights ; and, besides, 
the Lord de JauUy, the Lord de May, the Lord d'Erby, 
the Lord des Barres, and the Lord de Clermont, Squires ; 
to whom he gave a famous entertainment at his hotel. 
And when the cloths were removed, and before the tables, 
and they had all given thanks to God, he called for the 
varlet, who had the charge of his cliamber, and made him 
bring him a little box. Then, when he had sent every 
one out of the room to supper, he said, smiling, to the 
company, " My Lords and brothers, should thei'e appear to 
you anything presumptuous in what I am about to break 
to you, I beg you to pardon me ; for, on my honour, I am 
content to be the least of you. And what I have been 
about, and am now going to disclose to you, you must not 
be angry with me for ; for it is only purposed to redound 
to our honours, which, to generous spirits, cannot, I trust, 
but be agreeable, and, for this end, I have selected you, 
above all others in this kingdom, to be brothers and com- 
panions together in an affair of arms, for the love and 
honour of our Ladies. Kow my Lords and brothers, what 
do you say to all this ?" 

Then they all began, delighted at the idea, to glance 
from one to the other ; each one, out of deference to 
Saintre, shifting it upon his neighbour to answer for all, 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 1 8 1 

saying, " You speak for us all," or " You." At length, 
the Lord de Jaully spoke first, and said, *' My Lord de 
Saintre, better each one to speak for himself But, to be 
privileged to be one of such a company, or party to such 
an enterprise, methinks, requires but little hesitation. For 
my own part, I^ for one, with the grace of Grod and of our 
Lady, consent, thanking you for the honour you have 
done me in originally thinking of me, and offering me the 
refusal." 

Then it was, who readiest could thank him, and promise 
to accede. Nor was there one of them, however highly he 
might think of himself, who, for a moment, presumed to 
measure himself with Saintre ; for such was his valour, 
as you have heard, his largess, his gentleness, his courtesy, 
which passed all bounds, and all one ever sees, or hears of j 
that there was not one who had not staked his life for his. 
And, besides, as the King loved him above all his Court, 
every one naturally took a pleasure in obliging him. 
Then, thanking them all most kindly, he opened the box, 
and gave to each one his mask, all being alike as to 
make, and the diamonds. Then he said to them, '' Now, 
my Lords and my brothers, in the name of Grod the 
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, also of the blessed 
Virgin Mary, his Daughter and Mother, I give them to 
you ; and you are to take them on this condition, that 
each of you is to wear them on his left shoulder for the 
space of three years, if within the same we do not meet 
with a like number of Knights and Squires of name and 
renown, without reproach, who, with lances, baitle-axes, 
broadswords and daggers, shall have fought with us, and 
we with them, till either side may have won at every 
point, or borne the other to the ground. And whichever 
party God sends the worst, shall forfeit ; if our, the vails 
and the diamonds ; if their, the like to the other. And to 
secure our deliverance, we will send to the Court of the 



1 82 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

King of the Eomans, and into England, or wherever else 
we think necessary. But I am willing to take all this on 
myself; and, besides, I will see the King about it, and 
make him do something for us toward the expense." 

And when they had all told him, how much they were 
obliged to him, he continued, " And that all may be done 
en regle^ and we may be encouraged the more in our enter- 
prise, I think we should each one see his Lady, and get 
her to pin it on lightly with the hand, without fastening 
it, till the morning, on our left shoulders. And, in order 
that we may take every one by surprise, I have to ask 
that you will all be ready by four o'clock in the morning, 
at latest, when we will go and wake up the King and 
Queen, who sleep together to-night ; and, please the fates, 
we will give them a good morrow." 

And to this they all consented, being as satisfied as they 
could well be with anything. However, the Lord de 
May said, " Alas ! but what is the unhappy wretch to do 
whose Lady will not let him go ?" 

To which the Lord de Saintre answered, '^Ah, ray 
brother, such a thing is not to be supposed ; for, if she be 
not the crudest of the cruel, in no conscience could she 
oppose herself to any such prayer." 

And then they all took leave of one another, and went, 
each one his way. And now I will say no more of these 
Lords, or of their Lady loves, but will tell you how it 
fared with Saintre, touching the matter of his dame. 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 183 



CHAPTER LXVI. 

How Saintre went to speak with his Lady in the meadow, and how 
he told her of his eriterprise ; at which she was horribly vexed and 
displeased. — But how, being passionately entreated by Saintre, at 
last, she gave him her consent, placing his ensign on his shoulder. 

AND in the evening, being the eve of the first of May, 
after the King had taken his dessert, and the parting 
cup, the Lord de Saintre approached the Queen, and 
calling Madame to them, said before her, laughing, to the 
Queen, " And what, Madame, will you give me if I so 
manage that you shall sleep with the King to-night ?" 

" Faith," said she, laughing in her turn, " I will give 
you, for your impudence, just nothing at all." 

And while all this was going on, he managed to make 
his signal to Madame, and Madame, who well knew by his 
manner when he had called her, that he had wanted to 
apprise her how the Queen was to sleep that night with 
the King, proved herself, and that too without so much 
as opening her lips, to be neither deaf nor dumb ; for, 
immediately, she replied by her signal. And when the 
King and Queen were in bed, and the Lord de Saintre, as 
custom was to Princes and Princesses, great Lords and 
Ladies, had, as Chamberlain, sprinkled them with the 
holy water (but which many, now-a-days, are ashamed to 
have done to them, and think there is no necessity for, so 
little fear have they of the enemy), and when he had 
closed the curtains, and wished them both a good night, 
he returned to his chamber, and there he remained till the 
long-wished-for hour when Madame and he were to be 
together. Then was there kissing and rekissing, and all 
the toying, the fondling, and the sport which love alone 
can ever prompt his minions to conceive. And when they 
had thus a good while entertained one another, the Lord 



184 The History and pleasant Chronide 

de Saintre, falling on his knees, said to Madame, '' Ah, 
my high and sovereign goddess, nonpareille of women, as 
humbly as I can find words to entreat — a boon, grace, 
pardon, mercy, I crave at your hands !" 

'' And what, my friend, is your boon?" said Madame. 

"Madame," said Saintre, " since the day when first I 
knew you, I became your most humble slave and faithful 
and devoted servant, never once did I evince the spirit to 
be in me, to undertake anything in advancement of your 
honour, of my own accord ; but everything I may have 
achieved, or wherever I may have gone, it was all at your 
suggestion. Everything was done by your orders, and 
upon your advice and encouragement; and, seeing that 
by such thoughtlessness and negligence I have shamefully 
sinned, and been wanting to you, and that it is better to 
do well late than never ; for this reason, Madame, I have, 
as respectfully as I can find words, to entreat of you that 
you will be pleased to attach this ensign now, for the first 
time, to my shoulder. Nine other companions, with 
myself, in honour of their Ladies, have undertaken as 
much. They are So and So, and So and So," and then he 
named them. And when he had said thus far, he drew 
his ensign from his pocket, where he had it wrapped up 
in a handkerchief, and, handing it to her, thought to kiss 
her. 

Madame^, who all the time had been listening to him in 
silent astonishment, and by this had wrought herself into 
a towering rage, drawing herself up, thus obligingly con- 
descended to his whim : " And have you then actually 
allowed things to go this length, and do you really fancy 
you are to go here, and there, and everywhere, and with- 
out my knowledge or consent ? Never, while I live, shall 
you be again to me what you have been !" 

Who was taken back at this if it was not Saintre?" 
Then he began to look closely at her, and when he saw 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 185 

her a little calmer, he said, '' Alas ! Madame, this is a sorry 
reception, when, thinking to do all I could to gain you 
honour, instead of thanks I meet with blame ; I who have 
so long and so faithfully served you, and not only whose 
heart, whose days, whose honour, but whose life and limb 
have been imperilled for your sake, and in obedience to 
your commands. Thinking, from my soul, to do you 
honour and a kindness, can it be that I am to lose the 
woman, above all women, to whom I am so deeply 
bounden? Hah, ever-to-be-redoubted Lady, look with 
pity on your poor supplicant, and, for this once, let him 
be pardoned. If a second time I wander, then let mercy 
be denied me !" 

But Madame only replied, " Gro, tell your companions 
that the thing is at end ; that is all you have to do." 

^' Alas, Madame!" said Saintre, ''how can I do that? 
matters have gone too far to be now broken, and as there 
is nothing, Madame, in this world, in which I am not 
obliged to obey you, even to the very laying down of my 
life, were you to require it of me ; for this reason, on my 
knees, with uplifted hands, as humbly as I can, I beseech 
you that, of your own accord, and in all unfeignedness, 
you will forgive me, and pin my ensign here. And for 
the rest, do not be alarming yourself; for, with the grace 
of God and of our Lady, all will be for the best." 

And when he had done, Madame, sulking however, 
took the ensign, and placed it on his shoulder, and then, 
half " Yes,^' half "No," she permitted him to kiss her. 
By this, the night being far spent^ he respectfully took his 
leave, and departed. And now I will say no more of 
Madame, and will tell you of how the nine companions 
came to Saintre, and of the magnificent appearance they 
made at his hotel. 



1 86 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER LXYII. 

How the ten companions came, in the morning, to see the King. 

The Author. 

AND in the morning, which was the first day of May, 
the nine companions, as soon as it was light, were all 
with Saintre, at his hotel. To be short, as soon as they 
had heard mass there, the Lord de Saintre brought them 
all into his chamber. Then he handed to each of them a 
robe of silk, with the vails of gold, and of silver, all em- 
broidered as you have heard. Then he gave them each 
one a cap, as handsome and becoming as anything could 
be ; then, such belts of gold and of silver to strap their 
waists, that they could not help staring at the sight of 
them, one at another. Then he took back the vails, and, 
with his own hands, placed them on the shoulders of each ; 
at the same time laughing, and asking them, '' What their 
respective Ladies thought of all this ?" 

Alas, he told them not of his ; nor of all the misery, 
and the sickness of his heart. And when they had all 
descended into the court, there they found the ten 
prancing chargers, all of them snow white, and which he 
had had secretly procured. And they were all covered 
with cloths of the same material that the robes were ; and 
in all the corners, they were sown with vizors, of gold for 
the Knights, and of silver for the Squires. And then he 
handed them all dice, and said ; " Now, my Lords, we 
will all throw, and the one who has the highest points, 
will choose first." 

Then they all thanked him, almost overpowered ; say- 
ing one to the other, ''Was there ever the like of this?" 

And as they were mounting, spurs, all gilded, were 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 187 

presented to the Knights, and of silver to the Squires ; 
and their reins were plaited with silken cord, as was then 
the custom on occasions of ceremony. And as they left 
the gate, it was a perfect sight to see the horses ; what 
with the capering, dancing, plunging, snorting, neighing, 
kicking ; so that every one was either scampering to get 
out of their way, or hurrying to get a sight of them ; for 
the like of it was never seen. And in this manner they 
proceeded to the great court yard of the Hotel Saint Pol. 
And by the time they had got there, they were all in the 
highest spirits, for they knew well that the King would be 
awake. And when the King heard all this abominable 
clatter, and hullaballoo, he desired the Gentlewomen who 
were sleeping in the chamber, "to get up and see what it 
was was the matter." 

Then they went to the grating ; and when they had 
looked, they all began to cry, together, '' 0, Sir, Sir, do 
but come here ! If here is not the most extraordinary 
thing that ever happened !" 

On hearing this, the Queen, who was awake, wondering 
what on earth it could be, said to the King, " Let us go 
see what it is." 

Then the Grentlewomen came back, so astonished, that 
they had well nigh lost the use of their speech.^^^^ Then 
the King and the Queen called for their clothes ; and then 
the King, in his nightcap and his shirt, and the Queen 
the same, went, the King to the great window, and the 
Queen to the trellis. And when the ten companions, who 
were singing, and shouting, and hallooing, saw the King, 
they all made for him. And when the Queen showed 
herself, they all began to cry, at the top of their voices, 
* ' Sir, Sir, and Lady, a merry, merry May to you both !" 

Then the King said to them, " Good morning to you, 
companions ; good morning to you." 

Then the King and Queen withdrew to dress them- 



r88 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

selves ; and the ten companions alighted, and came into 
the King's closet, where they found him surrounded by 
his valets-de-chambre, who were dressing him. Then, 
when all were on their knees, the Lord de Saintre began 
first, and said, " Our sovereign Prince : My Lords, my 
brothers, who here are, and with them myself, have, each 
of us, this day, vowed, that is, saving your good will and 
licence, to wear this ensign, which you see upon our left 
shoulders, for the space of three years. The particulars 
are such as you may see, if you will deign to look on it, 
in the Letter-of-arms which we have had indited ; beseech- 
ing you, that it may be your good pleasure to allow us to 
go through with it." 

And when the King heard this new project, and saw 
upon their shoulders, the ensigns, he was not too well 
satisfied ; so he said to them, " My friends, it seems to 
me, you have done as the man did who married his cousin 
first, and asked for dispensation after. You had no right, 
either to contrive or to execute anything of the sort, 
without the consent of your Lord and Master, who has the 
charge and authority over you ; and whose business it had 
been rigorously to examine what advantage was like to 
come of it. And the one who proceeds without it merits 
to be severely punished." 

And when he had done speaking, he took their Letter, 
and began to read it ; telling them, " He would, think 
about it. And as for you, Saintre," he continued, '^ you 
have not a thought in your head but challenges and 
voyages. Methinks you ought to have had enough, by 
this, of that sort of work." 

"Ah, Sir," said Saintre, " it is not so much any grati- 
fication to myself, as a sense of honour, and in which you 
have your part, that spurs me on." By this the King was 
ready, and went to mass. 

In a few minutes after, in came my Lords, the King's 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 1 89 

brothers, who saw the ten companions, thus dressed, and 
with their new devices on. And when the companions had 
paid them their reverences, they presently asked them for 
their good offices. But they told them, " that as to their 
enterprise, they had very ill laid their measures : that the 
King was in the right, and they had had no business 
to go the lengths they had without his knowledge ; and 
that if he had acted otherwise than he did, he had done 
foolishly. However," they added, ''we will see him 
presently, and try what can be done for you." 

And after the King and the Lords, in a little while, 
came in the Queen, who was delighted to see them. And 
after her came Madame, who received them coldly enough. 
Then all went to hear grand mass. And all the time, 
you might see Ladies, Grentlewomen, Knights and Squires, 
staring, with all their might, at the new companions. And 
when the King was in his chamber, he sent for my Lords, 
his brothers, and showed them the Letters, and then asked 
them for their advice. To cut the matter short, the conclu- 
sion was, that, for this once, he would give his consent ; it 
being understood, that if anything of the sort was ever 
attempted again, either by them or any other of the 
kingdom, without his previous consent, it would be to 
bring down on the party his severest indignation, and they 
should be punished. Then they all began most humbly to 
thank him, &c. 

The remainder of this Chapter, as tedious, is omitted. — Translator. 



1 90 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER LXYIII. 

How the King spoke with Saintre ; and of the presents that he made 
to him, and his companions. 

The Author. 

AND while the clothes were being made, which I have 
told you of, the King, who greatly loved Saintre, 
said to him, '^ Saintre, who was it put it into your head to 
undertake this new enterprise without my consent ? 
What suretyship has fortune ever given to you, that, often 
as she has been on your side, she may not, at the length, 
be wearied of you ? And if that is not enough ; make 
you little of the anger of our Lord, who defends as all 
such idle vanities ? And ^if he has in so many manners 
and times stood your good friend, by so much the more are 
you bounden to him, as you are a true Christian ; the more 
mindful should you be not to provoke him. However, 
since the affair has gone so far that it cannot now in 
decency be stopped, for this once you may proceed. But 
I forbid you ever again to attempt anything of the kind." 
"Ah, Sir," said Saintre, '' forgive me !" 
" From my heart, Saintre, I do," said the King, &c. 

A portion of this Chapter, which, in its general character, has, 
upon a previous occasion, been presented to the reader, is here 
suppressed. — Translator, 

Of the great grief of Madame, and of how she left the Court. 

Madame, now left thus solitary, deprived of her friend, 
could neither find in tilt, nor tournament, nor yet dancing, 
nor the chase, nor any other pastime, delight to entertain 
her heart, or wherewithal to fill the aching void. And 
ever as she looked on the lovers, side by side, as they 
toyed the live-long day away, would break out afresh the 
misery that consumed her. Till, at length, so settled be- 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 191 

came her melancholy, that, instead of eating and drinking, 
she fell to fasting ; and, for all her sleeping, came waking. 
So that, little by little, all her ruddiness forsook her ; and 
on that cheek where late was seen to bloom the rose, now 
lurked the lily pale : so that every one began to wonder. 
And among the rest the Queen, who clearly saw her to 
to be unwell, so wan and pensive, would often ask her, 
" What was it was the matter with her?" 

To which Madame would only reply. '^ It is nothing, 
Madame ; you know well, we Ladies, when we have a 
mind, are often ill." 

" Nay, but, fair Cousin, seriously, tell me, I entreat 
you, what it is is wrong, and what part of you it is that 
ails ; for you must know how much we have at heart to 
see you yourself again." 

"Ah, my good Lady," sighed Madame, ''you are too 
kind." 

And at this time they said no more ; but the Queen, 
who liked her greatly, did not, for that, forbear to send for 
her physician. Hue de Fisol, a philosopher, and a man of 
much skill ; desiring him to go to Madame, on her part, and 
to inform himself of what it was was the matter ; and then 
to let her see him again in the morning, so that she might 
know what it could be. And so by the next morning, 
our said Hue had made himself master of Madame's case. 
And he ascertained her body, and all her members to be 
sound, and capable of all their sundry functions; nor 
could he discover either headaches, or fevers, or chills, 
or disorder, saving only that he fancied he detected some- 
thing unusual, like a fulness, in the lower regions of the 
breast, which if not quickly disburdened, would infallibly 
bring her to her grave. Besides, all her spirits were gone, 
being retreated to the heart, which he found was like to 
burst. However, as well as he could, he comforted her, and 
then he said, " Madame, as regards your person, I find al; 



192 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

right and working ; but as for your mind, there is certainly 
something preying upon it, which, if not speedily dis- 
charged, will render it beyond my power, or any man's 
power, to save you. And, for this reason, Madame, it 
must, some way, be got rid of : anything farther which 
may be necessary toward your restoration, it will be my 
affair to attend to." 

What Madame said to Master Hue, and how he comforted her. 

And when Madame had thus heard Master Hue's 
opinion of her case, she said to him, " Alas, Master Hue, 
it is true, I have a grief at heart, but it is one which 
a word from you would go far to remove. And, I 
give you my honour, if you will but help me toward it, 
that the obligation shall never be forgotten ; and, besides, 
you shall have the richest scarlet mantle that money can 
procure." 

And when Master Hue heard talk of the scarlet mantle, 
the notion pleased him well, so he said to her, " Madame, 
I am in all things your obedient servant. Lay the obliga- 
tion you will upon me, and it shall be a pleasure to me to 
obey you." 

'' Now, for that. Master Hue," said Madame, '' we 
thank you. Physicians, you know, must be confessors too, 
at times. And although what I am about to admit to you, 
is neither anything that I need be ashamed to confess, or 
you afraid to hear ; nevertheless, I have to request that 
you will keep it a secret. So I will tell you. Master Hue, 
that what is vexing me is this: how to contrive to get 
away, for two or three months, to revisit our propeity, 
which we ought to have done long ago ; for it is now more 
than sixteen years since we were there. And, for this, 
our affairs, Master Hue, have fared none the better; and 
we know well, that Madame will never consent to our 
going." 



of little Jelian de Saintre. 193 

^'Ho, Madame/' said Master Hue, on hearing this, "if 
there is nothing more serious than this amiss with you, 
111 manage matters for you. So make your mind easy, for 
you shall go. I know how to settle all such jobs. Just 
you keep your room for three or four days, and for the 
rest, leave it to me." 

Then went straight Master Hue to the Queen, and said 
to her, '' Madame, I have just seen your cousin." 

And " Alas," said the Queen, " and how did you leave 
her ?" 

" Ah, Madame," said he, '' poorly, very poorly : I see 
only one hope for her." 

" Alas," said the Queen, '• and is it so serious ? what is 
it you would have her do ?" 

"- Tore God, Madame," said he, " I see nothing for it 
but that she should throw away all care ; and refresh her- 
self, for two or three months, in her native air." 

*' Alas, and you think that that would bring her roimd ?" 
said the Queen. 

" Madame, with God's assistance," said Master Hue, ^' I 
think it will. Something, too, may be done in the way of 
electuaries and of diet." 

Then the Queen went to see Madame, whom she found, 
as you have heard, in bed. Then she comforted her as 
well as she could, dwelling more particularly on how 
speedily she would be cured if once again in her native 
air, and how Master Hue had told her so ; and bidding 
her to keep up her spirits, and to set out at once ; 
for, the sooner the better, when health was at stake. 
Madame, who was not in want of any other remedy than 
to be spared the anguish of her heart, at seeing the other 
lovers dancing, singing, and making merry ; whispering, 
each one, the other in the ear ; when all such delights 
were to be proscribed to her, till the return of the joy of 
her heart, was marvellously recovered at this permission 





194 TJie History and pleasant Chronicle 

to be oflF. Brief, as soon as was possible, she had taken 
her farewell of the King and Queen. And it was for two 
months that the Queen gave her leave to be absent ; she 
promising, that if, by that time, she found herself restored, 
she would at once return. And after this, she went. 



N 



CHAPTER LXrX. 

How Madame arrived at her country-house ; and of how she was 

received. 

The Author. 

OW, it is not in our power to give the name either of 
the country, property, or hotel where the Lady de- 
scended ; and for the simple reason, that history makes no 
mention of them ; and this, from considerations^which mil 
presently appear. So we can only inform our reader, that 
her principal seat was at a league from a principal city, 
and that at another league from the said seat was an Abbey, 
which the Lady's ancestors had founded — the said Abbey 
being at a like distance from the city : so that the said 
city, Madam e's hotel, and the Abbey may be said to have 
lain in a triangle. 

Of the arrival of Madame ; and of the joy it caused in the country, 
and the reception she met with. 

The Authoe. 

And when the news had spread, that Madame was in 
the country, incontinent, all the Lords and Ladies, Squires 
and Gentlemen, citizens and their wives, of the vicinity, 
came to pay her their respects. So that, already, her grief 
began to assuage. 

^^^^And now I will refrain a moment, to speak of ]\Iadame 
and her country-house, and I will tell you of the Abbey, 
and of Damp Abbot. 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 195 

Here tells of Damp Abbot, and of his Abbey. 

The Author. 

This Abbey, which is nameless, was, as you have heard, 
founded by the ancestors of Madame, who had so bounti- 
fully endowed it, that, at this day, it is accounted one of 
the ten richest in France ; and Damp Abbot, of it, for the 
time being, was the son of a rich burgess of the town, who, • 
in consideration of a timely word in the ear of the King, 
and from his friends at the Court of Eome, so judiciously 
placed his money to account, that said son at length was 
made Abbot. And now, at the age of twenty-five, our 
Abbot was big and brawny ; and whether to wrestle, 
jump, vault, throw, pitch the sledge, or put the stone ; at 
tennis, or what you will, there was not a monk, knight, 
squire or citizen alive^ who, when Damp Abbot had chosen 
to do his best, had ever proved his match ; and if on the 
one hand he kept himself in condition with all sorts of 
exercises and sports ; on the other^ he spent his money with 
so good a grace, so handsomely, that he was exceedingly 
beloved and praised of all. And when Damp Abbot heard 
of the arrival of Madame, he was wonderfully pleased ; 
and he immediately ordered one of his carts to be filled 
with haunches of venison, boars' heads, hares, conies, 
pheasants, partridges, fat capons, pullets, pigeons, &c. ; and 
all this he sent to Madame, together with a pipe of wine 
de Beaulne ; praying of her to be good enough to accept 
it, as it was meant, at his hands. And when Madame 
saw all this fine present, you need hardly ask if she was 
flattered ! So she ordered the party w^ho brought it to be 
well provided for, sending back her compliments to Damp 
Abbot. 

And the time when all this happened was not far from 
Lent ; and in the Abbey, the greater pardons were to be had 
on the Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays of 



196 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Lent. Now Madame, in a spirit of deep devotion, as be- 
came that holy season, determined to be there. But in 
order to allow the press of the common sort to be over, she 
refrained for some fifteen days. Then she sent word to 
Damp Abbot, that the next day she would attend at high 
mass ; and after, procure her pardons. On hearing this, 
Damp Abbot, who had never seen her, was delighted. So 
he gave orders to have all the holy reliques laid out on the 
grand altar, in the oratory of the chapel, where all her 
ancestors lay interred. And, in addition to this, he sent 
a requisition to the good town for whatever was to be 
found in the way of lampreys, salmon, or other fresh or 
salt water fish. Then he had stabling provided for all her 
equipage, and viands got together of every sort; and 
besides, he had fires lighted in all the rooms, for the season 
was such as required them. And when at length Madame 
was come, and had alighted at the door of the monastry, 
she was there met by all the officers, and the noblest 
churchmen of the same, who, on their knees, with Damp 
Abbot at their head, presented to her the keys, with all 
the choicest of their ornaments, as also the tender of their 
humble duties ; for all which Madame thanked them 
greatly. And when she had made her offering at the 
great altar, she was conducted to her chapel to hear mass. 
Then, as she was leaving, after prayers, she was met by 
Damp Abbot and all his convent, on their knees ; the said 
Damp Abbot saying to her, " Ever, and our most redoubted 
Lady, deign to accept your welcome from your own hall ; 
and truly joyful and thankful are we, God has vouchsafed 
to us the grace to see, and to receive you in it. Into your 
hands, Lady, as at once our patron and our founder, we re- 
sign and offer up the Abbey with all that is in it, our bodies 
as our goods." Then said Madame to him, " Abbot, from 
our heart we thank you ; and if there is anything we can 
either do for you or for your convent, you may count upon 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 197 

us." Then, Madame asked, "if slie could see the holy 
reliques ?" On this, Damp Abbot, who was on his knees, 
got up, and diving his great fist into the chest, brought 
up arms and bones by the dozen, which were in it, of holy 
Saints deceased. And then he harangued Madame as 
follows, telling her, — "Madame, yonder lies the body of 
that most valiant Prince, your ancestor, our first founder, 
who, on his return from the Holy Land, brought back with 
him this skull, this hand, and other bone of Such and Such a 
blessed saint, martyr, or holy woman. My Lord, his brother, 
who lies near him, it was, who gave us these thumbs, with 
the under jaw, and the toe-nail. They once belonged to So 
and So, and So and So ; blessed virgins and sufferers, now 
with God. And, not to weary you ; one or other of your 
progenitors have presented us with, I may say, all these 
reliques, and made this church, and m.uch of all you see 
attached to it, what they are. The remainder has been 
the work of my predecessors, the Abbots, and the divers 
Lords and Ladies of the country, whose monuments you 
see around." 

And when^ Madame had kissed these most precious re- 
liques, she offered a cope, and two tunics, with a covering 
for the great altar, of rich crimson velvet, all wrought 
with gold. And when Madame thought to return, and 
her people were baiting the horses, or hurrying on their 
bridles, Damp Abbot led her into his room, to warm her- 
self; which said room was all neat, and trim and carpeted, 
and it had glass windows in it ; brief, was such as became 
a good fellow, like himself, and one who knew how to take 
his ease. Then he said to all, " Let us retire, and leave 
Madame alone, that she may warm and refresh herself." 

And so they did. And when Madame, and the Ladies 
and Gentlewomen who were with her, had warmed and 
rested themselves, Madame sent word to know, " if the 
chariots were ready ?" 



198 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Then Damp Abbot, who had already told his maitre- 
d'hotel that Madame was to dine with him, when every- 
thing was ready, came and said to her — "That if she 
must go, he hoped she would accept his arm." And so 
saying, Damp Abbot stepped up to Madame, and taking 
her by the hand, led her into his dining-room, for all the 
world like an audience-hall, so nicely was it hung, carpeted, 
and glazed. And he had had a good fire put in it. And 
in the hall were three tables, each covered with the whitest 
of linen ; and on the cupboards was show plate of every 
sort. And when Madame saw the tables laid, she said to 
Damp Abbot, ''And is this your dinner-hour?" 

'' And is it not time ?" said he : " it must be twelve by 
this." 

But he had had the clock put on ; and as he spoke it 
struck. And when Madame heard it strike, she was for 
hurrying away. And when Damp Abbot saw that she 
was determined to go, he said to her, " Madame, by the 
fealty I owe you, you are not going to leave us till you 
have had your dinner !" 

" Dinner !" said Madame, '' it is not to be thought of. I 
have too much to do elsewhere." 

Then said Damp Abbot, " Ha, maitre-d'hotel ; and you, 
my Ladies, will you stand by, and see me denied in this 
manner ?" 

Then the maitre-d'hotel, and the Ladies and Gentle- 
women, who were all fasting, and as hungry as could be, 
thinking, besides, that they would get a better dinner by 
dining with Damp Abbot than they might at home, began 
to nudge one another for each to appeal to Madame. And 
at last, on their telling her, that it was the first prayer 
Damp Abbot had ever made her, she consented. 

Then Damp Abbot, all bowing, smiles, and gracious, fell 
on his knees, and humbly thanked Madame, and the 
other Ladies and Gentlewomen. Then the horses were 



of little Jehan de Saintre. igg 

sent back to the stables, and all were restored to good 
humour. 

Then said Damp Abbot to Madame, " Madame, we are 
now in the holy season of penitence, so you are not to be 
surprised with the miserable fare before you. Besides, it 
was only late last evening that I heard of your intention 
to visit our Abbey." 

'' Abbot," said Madame, ^' we are sure we shall want for 
nothing." 

Then Damp Abbot called for water, that they might 
wash their hands. And when it came, it was rose- water, 
with the chill off; an attention which pleased Madame 
and the other Ladies greatly. Then Madame required 
Damp Abbot, as Prelate, to wash after : which he would 
on no account do : so, to let the chaplains of Madame 
proceed, he withdrew to the sideboard, as if to see to some- 
thing. And when the table was all ready, Madame de- 
sired Damp Abbot " To be seated." 

Then said Damp Abbot to her, '' Madame, you are the 
Lady, and the Abbess of this house : it is for you to sit, 
leave me to take care of myself." 

And at the foot of the table, where Madame presided, 
sat Madame Jehanne, Madame Katharine, and the Lord de 
Gency, who had come with her. And at the second table 
were the Prior of the convent, Isabelle, and the other 
Gentlewomen, and two or three Squires ; and Sir Geoffrey 
de Sainct-Amant was opposite the said Isabelle. Then 
Damp Abbot, with his napkin before him, went to the 
cupboard, where was the wine, and brought to Madame a 
sop of white ypocras ; then handing it about to the other 
tables. Then he carried round the Lenten fruits, then the 
sweatmeats. Madame, all this time, was begging him to 
be seated ; but he would only answer, '' Madame, you 
must allow me this once to keep the company of maitre- 
d'hotel ; and show him how his Lady should be served." 



200 Ttte History and pleasant Chronicle 

But when the first dishes were on the table, and she still 
found Damp Abbot standing before them, Madame said to 
Damp Abbot, " Really, Abbot, if you will persist this 
way in standing, we will get up too." 

'^ Sooner than that, Madame," said Damp Abbot, ''I 
will obey you." 

Madame was then going to bid some of them rise, to 
make way for him. But Damp Abbot said, '' Let every- 
body sit still : Grod forbid that any should be disturbed 
for such as I." 

Then he got a stool, and sat himself down, opposite 
Madame, only a little lower down. Then he had white 
wine, de Beaulne, handed round ; and after it red, of three 
or four kinds ; and all had of them. What need I tell you 
of all their good cheer, or of how they all encouraged 
one another to eat and to drink ? To be short, for many a 
long day Madame had never found herself so well enter- 
tained. So that soon it came, that the eyes, those archers 
of the heart, as well on the part of Madame as of Damp 
Abbot, began to launch their fiery darts : those of Madame 
at Damp Abbot ; and those of Damp Abbot at Madame. 
Brief, so quickly came they to an understanding, that 
under cover of the cloth and napkins, which were long 
and trailing, first, from as if unintentionally touching one 
another with their feet, they got, at length, to treading on 
each other's toes. So that, so passionately were they 
absorbed with this new, below-board pastime, that, what 
was upon it, was quickly forgotten. However, Damp 
Abbot, who, on this new insight into the virtues of Dame 
Abbess and Foundress, was the more joyous of the two ; 
though he might not eat, never once "ceased drinking, 
now to one, now to another. What need I say more? 
Never, in his life, had Damp Abbot been in better spirits. 
One moment he was up, and had his stool placed before the 
Ladies ; and when he had sat a little with them, he would 



of little Jehan de SaintrS. 201 

be off to the Gentlewomen, telling them, " they had lost 
their appetites," or " that they were in love ;" and " that 
they must eat away heartily and be merry." Then he 
would make for Madame's women, and when he had had 
a jolly good laugh with them, return to Madame, and 
gloriously plant himself down by her side. Then would 
begin the archers to shoot again, more hard than ever ; 
and those tender interpreters, the toes, to press the mutual 
ardour of their flames. And of all the sorts of wines, the 
viands, the lampreys ; the fish, as well fresh as salt : in a 
word, how they were regaled and entertained, I will, at 
present, say nothing more ; turning rather to the sequel of 
our tale, which, in all conscience, is rich enough. 



CHAPTEE LXX. 

How Madame and Damp Abbot fell into discourse, and of bow 
she thanked him. 

The Author. 

AND when the tables were removed ; and the maitre- 
d' hotel and all the rest had gone to dine, Madame 
thanked Damp Abbot for the kindly entertainment she 
had met with ; and so, talking, or walking about the hall, 
they amused themselves as best they could, whilst their 
people were dining. And Madame had given order, that 
by the time maitre-d'hotel had done, the horses and 
carriages were to be at the door. But Damp Abbot, so 
that Madame might repose herself, had had his own best 
bed new made with fair fresh linen. So he said to her, 
" How, Madame, surely you are not going to make so 
little of the good old customs of the place ?" 

''And what. Abbot," inquired Madame, "are the good 
old customs ?" 

^' Madame," said he, ^' they are, that whenever any 



202 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Ladies of condition, or Gentlewomen, have dined at the 
Abbey, they and their attendants should accept of a bed, 
either to sleep or rest themselves, as they please ; and this 
as well in winter as in summer ; and that they stay 
supper. So, Madame, for this afternoon, I make over to 
you my own room, and will sleep, myself, somewhere 
else. It is a usage has never yet been departed from 
in our Abbey ; so I hope, Madame, you are not going to 
break in upon it." 

At length, such were the prayers of Damp Abbot and 
the Ladies, that Madame became gracious, and said, " She 
would keep up the good old customs." 

Then Madame withdrew to her apartment ; and there 
she found wine and dessert on the cupboard. Then the 
door was closed, and Madame was left by herself, with her 
Ladies, to repose till the time of vesper^. 



CHAPTER LXXI. 
How Damp Abbot was extolled. 

AND when the Ladies and Gentlewomen were all left to 
themselves, first Isabelle began to open, and said, 
" And how, Madame, have you nothing to say, nor the 
rest of you, sots, of Damp Abbot's good cheer, and the 
reception he has given us ? Certainly, I never saw such a 
table ; more on one, or drunk better wine." 

" Certainly," said Madame, " the man seems a respect- 
able one enough." 

"And is that all you have to say for him!" said 
Madame Jehanne. " A more engaging man I never came 
across." 

*' And yet you, Madame," said Katharine, " were not 
for staying, if we had not made you !" 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 203 

" Ha !" said Isabelle, '' I knew from the first he would 
carry his point : he was in earnest about it;" 

Then they all fell to together, as women will do, when 
alone, to praise the magnificence, the joUiness, and the 
fine proportions of Damp Abbot, and all with such a 
relish and a gusto, one would fancy they would never 
cease. However, Madame, whose great griefs were now 
beginning to abate, and who, besides, was more taken with 
Damp Abbot than she cared them to see, allowing them 
to jabber, simply confined herself to saying, at intervals, 
'' the man seems a respectable one enough." 

And while they 'TVere all still busy belauding Damp 
Abbot, the bell rung for vespers, so that they were forced 
to rise, without having so much as closed an eye. 

And as soon as vespers were over, and when Madame 
was thinking to mount, Damp Abbot took her by the 
hand, on which Madame said to him, "Hey, Abbot, 
where next ?" 

Then said Damp Abbot, " Permit me, Madame, to lead 
you to a slight collation, for it is high time." 

And as he said this, he placed Madame's arm under his, 
and gently pressing her hand, he led her into a lower 
hall, which was well hung, and where was a great fire, 
and the tables were spread. And on them were salads 
and vinegar, and lampreys, roasted and in pies, and 
sauces ; and roaches, and barbels, and salmon, cut in 
stakes, griddled and boiled; and fat carp, and great 
dishes of craw-fish, and huge river eels, swimming in 
their fat ; and, besides these, there were dishes and plates 
of various devices, covered with dessert : jellies, white, 
carnation, and of gold ; tarts a la hourbonnoise , cheese- 
cakes, flawms, sugar-plums, white almonds, rose-water 
crackers ; together with figs from Melique, Allegarde, and 
Marseilles, raisins, from Corinth, with abundance of other 
things, all laid out in the order of a banquet. 



204 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER LXXIL 

How Madame found herself compelled to take part in the Collation. 

MADAME who, though, hungry, had no idea of taking 
anything save a cup of wine or a biscuit, found the 
tables^ however, groaning with all these good things. For 
the traitor, God of love, had so furiously assailed her with 
his arms during all the time of dinner, that, either to eat 
or to drink she had had no heed. But as nature seldom 
fails, sooner or later, to make her wants to be attended to, 
Madame's appetite was now so much restored, that, to 
stay, she required but little pressing. And when the 
rest of the company saw Madame seated, and Damp Abbot 
at the middle of the table opposite to her, with very little 
prayers on the part of Damp Abbot, they consented to fall 
into their places. And, by Madame's orders, and to be 
better company to one another, it was enjoined them all 
to sit as well on each side, as at the ends of the table. 
And that nothing should be wanting, and all might pass 
more pleasantly, four or five monks of the more jovial of 
the fraternity were sent for and introduced. And thus 
the table was full, 

What need I tell you more? The mirth and jollity 
was such, that among the like number of persons, greater 
was never seen. However, at length, the hour arrived 
when Madame and Damp Abbot, to their great regret and 
sorrow, were obliged to part. And as she was stepping 
into her chariot, there were Damp Abbot and Prior, most 
humbly thanking Madame for the great honour that she 
had done them, and recommending to her the church and 
convent. Then Madame said to them, '' We shall often 
see you, for we hope, from henceforth, more frequently 
to be sharers of your pardons than hitherto we have 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 205 

been able." On hearing which they were well pleased. 
Presently she continued, " But as for you, Abbot, we have 
to request that there may be a truce to all this prodigality ; 
for, assuredly, to-day's feasting has been altogether out of 
all conscience, and it is not cur wish to see the like 
repeated." 

" At least, Madame," said Damp Abbot, ''you will not 
decline or forbid me to offer you, after mass, a morsel, a 
la poudre de due, with either white wine, or ypocras, or 
grenasche, or malmsey, or Greek wine, as you would 
prefer?" 

" But I will," said Madame : "at such a season as this 
it is our business to fast." 

" To fast !" said Damp Abbot ; " it is not to be thought 
of. I can always give you absolution." 

And after, Damp Abbot mounted on his horse, and 
conducted Madame a good way, and then took his leave. 



CHAPTER LXXIII. 

How Madame and her Y\"omeii praised Damp Abbot, the one to the 

other. 

The Author. 

AND as soon as Damp Abbot had left them, and gone 
back to his Abbey, then commenced his praises, and 
it was who loudest could extol him. And Isabelle, who 
was the most rattling, began to say, ^'Ha, Madame, 
Madame, you are much to blame to refuse a good thing 
when it falls in your way." 

Then Madame Jehanne said to her, " Isabelle, you are 
mistaken ; Madame often intends to go, and she will dine 
each time she does." 

To this said Madame Katharine, " You are both in the 



2o6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

wrong. There is no occasion whatsoever that Madame 
should dine every time she goes to the convent ; but I 
certainly think she is perfectly warranted in accepting, 
once in a way, the civilities of Damp Abbot ; for, as far as 
one can judge, they are offered out of real good nature, 
and without any afterthoughts. He can well afford it, or it 
would be another thing. What say you, Madame ; am I 
not in the right ?" 

Then Madame, when she had heard them all round, said, 
" Of his mutton we will be content with the wool. So we 
will confine ourselves to his snatch, a la poudre de due, 
white wine, ypocras, grenasche,. malmsey, or other rich or 
rarer sort ; that will be quite sufficient. But, seriously, it 
is our intention to acquire for ourselves all these pardons, 
or, at any rate, most of them ; for we hardly know when 
again we may be in these parts, or able to procure 
them." 

And by this they had gotten to their hotel. Madame, 
into whose breast this new flame had now wormed its 
way, was unable, all this night, to sleep, doing nothing but 
sigh and mourn, and toss and turn ; planning with herself 
how, soonest, she could get again to see Damp Abbot, and 
open herself to him more fully ; whilst Damp Abbot, on 
his side, tormented with the like imaginations, and who 
had not yet forgotten all the pleasant earnest had been 
interchanged between them, either above or below the 
board, had not another thought, ''' But when will Madame 
be coming for her pardons ?" 

And when the long-wished-for day was come, Madame 
said to her women, ''That, in order the better to prepare 
herself to receive, fitly and worthily, the pardons, she had 
resolved to confess herself unfeignedly to Damp Abbot, 
who was a prelate, and, so far as she could judge of him, a 
man of a deep devotion." 

Then said Madame Jehanne to Madame, "Madame, 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 20/ 

you will do very riglitly ; I was with him yesterday 
myself." 

Then Madame bid the little Perrin, of her bedchamber, 
to get on a horse, and go and tell Damp Abbot, " that 
Madame would be glad to see him presently." 

On hearing this, Damp Abbot lost no time, as he was 
anxious to show his great respect for Madame. Then 
Madame, after he had made his reverence, present all her 
Ladies, openly said to him, — " Abbot, the more worthily to 
be constituted partakers of your pardons, we have deter- 
mined to confess ourselves." 

''Ah, Madame," said Damp Abbot, "how stand you 
with Grod ? And, Madame, who purpose you to be your 
confessor, so that I may give him dispensation, if unhap- 
pily unprovided?" 

" Then, said Madame, " There is none here more able or 
sufficient than yourself.^' 

To which Damp Abbot replied, "Ah, Madame, if there 
is any good or efficacy in me, it is in virtue of my staff; 
deprive me of it, and I am no more worthy than is 
another." 

With these words, Madame retired into her dressing- 
room, in which there was a good fire, Damp Abbot de- 
voutly following her. And when the door was closed, for 
two hours she poured out before him, in all humbleness 
and penitence of spirit, all the little kindnesses, and the 
amorous mercies, in which, from her youth up, she had 
indulged herself ; in all honour, however, and without any 
sort of villany, and, for all which. Damp Abbot gave her 
absolution, as tenderly as he could. And before they 
separated, Madame went to her coffer, and took from it a 
very large and splendid ruby ring, all set in gold, and 
putting it on his middle finger, said to him, " Sweetheart, 
my only thought, my soul's desire, this day I elect you as 
my only friend, and with this ring I wed you." 



2o8 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Then Damp x\bbot, as humbly as he could find words, 
thanked her, all the while muttering to himself the good 
old saw, which says. 

He who a chance refuses, , 
Deserves when he loses. 

Then he gave Madame absolution, and kissing her as 
softly as he could, with the holy kiss of charity, he took 
his leave. And as he was returning through the hall, he 
said, feelingly, to the Ladies and Gentlewomen present, 
'' Till she calls let none of you, my sisters and my friends, 
disturb her. May God be with you ; Madame, I leave to 
your care." 

Whilst Madame, to recover a little the colour which her 
mortification had withdrawn from her cheeks, remained so 
long behind, that, at last, her Ladies and her people heard 
the clock announce the hour for prayers, on which Madame, 
who heard it too, called for Jehanne, and when she had 
put on some of the plainest things she had, and, the better 
to cover her face, a handkerchief over her head ; in this 
simple and unpretending manner, her eyes and her face 
toward the ground, she went, in deep contrition, to hear 
mass ; and after that to dinner, and so the day passed. 
And the one following, Wednesday, pardons being again 
to be dispensed, Madame having signified her intention to 
be present, Damp Abbot, in the greatest spirits, had all 
sorts of good things prepared ; ypocras, and other foreign 
wines, of various kinds, decanted ; white and red herrings 
and more substantial victuals for the companions, besides 
good stabling and provender for the horses. And when 
Madame had heard mass, Damp Abbot took Madame 
under his arm, and led her into his apartment, where 
there was a good fire, and breakfast laid out. And when 
Madame had plentifully breakfasted. Damp Abbot took 
her by the hand, saying, ^' Madame, while all your people 



oj little Jehan de Saintri, 209 

are finishing and regaling themselves, allow me to show 
you our new buildings." 

Then they both left tlie room, and had quickly wan- 
dered so far out of one chamber and into another, that her 
Ladies lost all trace of her. And before they came out of 
the secret closet. Damp Abbot gave Madame a piece of fine 
black velvet, which afterwards she quietly sent for. Then 
Madame returned into the dining-hall, where the company 
were, and when her Ladies came in from looking for her, 
Madame, as if in a rage, was down upon them, saying, 
'' I told you to come after me, and I thought, all the time, 
you were; but you would rather sit here, the lot of you, 
cramming yourselves with Abbot's good things, and roast- 
ing your toes at the fire, than have a thought or care for 
your mistress !" 

''Ah^ Madame," said they, ''though we Avent almost 
immediately after you, do what we would we could not 
find you !" 

On this. Damp Abbot put in a word, saying, "Ah, 
Madame, do for this once let them be forgiven." 

Then Madame, relenting, began to praise Damp Abbot's 
fine buildings, which she said she had been through. 
Then she made for her chariot, on which Damp Abbot 
took his leave of her. What need I say more ? Hardly 
a week of Lent went over in which she did not succeed, 
with a no less assiduous attendance, in gaining for herself 
the pardons, &c., as often as not remaining, along with one 
or two others, banqueting, dining, and supping. And after 
she got up, it was frequently to hunt, with Damp Abbot, 
stags, foxes, pheasants, and the like game. And in this 
manner the season of Lent slipped heedlessly and joyously 
away. 



:^/^ 



210 The History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTEE LXXIY. 

How the Queen wrote, the first time, to Madame. 

The Author. 

AND when the two months had passed away, which she 
had engaged for to the Queen, and not a w^ord was 
heard of her, either by letter or yet message, the Queen, 
who knew not well what to make of it, wrote to her as 
follows : — 

To OUR VERY DEAR AND MUCH-LOVED COUSIN. 

Very dear and much-loved Cousin, seeing that the 
two months, at the expiration of tvhich you promised us to 
return, have now elapsed, with half another, and even 
more ; and that since the day you left us, so much as a 
line^ on your part, ive have never been honoured with, ive 
cannot altogether suppress our wonder at the same ; so, we 
have to require of you, as soon as this shcdl have reached 
your hand, to return to us, so much are we desirous to see 
you. And if there is any matter in which we can gratify 
you, it shall he attended to^ with all our heart, as our 
trusty secretary, Julien de Bray, will tell you, and ivJiom 
you are to listen to in this matter, as you would to ourself. 
Dear friend and Cousin, God have you in his safe keep- 
ing. Written from our town of Paris, this eighth day of 
April. 

Bonne. 




of little Jelian de Saintre. 2 1 1 



CHAPTEE LXXV. 

How !Madaii:ie, -without waiting for any further explanations, made 
her answer to the Queen. 

The Author. 

AND one day it came, when Madame was at tlie Abbey, 
in search of pardons, that there happened to arrive 
the said Master Juiien de Bray, Secretary to the Queen : 
the said Secretary finding her seated at table, and at her 
dinner. And so at once, as one of her old friends, and 
fresh from Court, presuming, naturally, Madame would be ' 
no less pleased to see him than he was to see her, he 
eagerly handed her the letters; but Madame, who was 
exceedingly offended he should have found her there 
above all places, with very little ceremony took the 
letters from him, and with as little, read them. And then, 
that she might be the sooner rid of liim and his letters, 
she hurried through with her dinner, and then home, so 
that she might write her answer. And before she went, 
she said to Master Juhen, " Get your dinner, and then let 
me see you." 

Then Damp Abbot, who, of his own nature, was naturally 
kind, bade Master Secretary '' to be welcome ;" and, that 
he might the more readily chat with him, he sat down 
opposite to him. And while all this was going on, one of 
Damp Abbot's keepers came in, and told him, "how he ' 
had just put up a splendid buck, and that there were ten 
or twelve hinds with him, and if they would but come 
they were certain of a famous run." 

Then said Damp Abbot, " It is too late for to-day, 
keeper. Madame is gone ; but, without fail, she will be 
here to-morrow." 



212 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

" And how," said Master Julien, " does Madame hunt, 
then, of her own accord ?" 

" Of her own accord !" said Damp Abbot, without ever 
once thinking ; '^ I rather fancy so. Two or three times a 
week ; sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot, just as 
the fit takes her." 

" And, sir," said Master Julien, "have you then dogs 
and hounds ?" 

"Ay, have I!" said he, "and hawks too, and as fine 
as any prelate in France.'' 

"Holy Mary," said Master Julien, "and you have 
reason to be proud of the same !" 

And as he was spying Damp Abbot, he saw on his 
finger the big ruby ring which he at once remembered to 
have belonged, on a time, to Madame, and though he did 
not care to have it seen he saw it, he did not the less 
omit to book it. And when he had had his dinner, and 
got out of Damp Abbot as much as he had a mind to, he 
took his leave, most humbly and plentifully thanking him 
for all his kindness. Then he got upon his horse, and 
went to Madame, to whom he enlarged himself, as by the 
Queen's letter Madame had been told he was to do. Then 
Madame, who had no other thought than how quickest to 
be rid of him, gave him her answer to the Queen, which 
ran as follows : — 

To MY EVER DREAD A]^D SOVEREIGN LaDY THE QUEEN. 

Ever dread and sovereign Lady^ to your very good 
grace, as humbly as I can find words, I recommend 
myself by Master Julien de Bray^ your Secretary. I 
have received your letter^ and, too well, Madame, am 
sensible of its contents ; so, as humbly as I am able, I 
have to crave that you will pardori, in that, even in appear- 
ance I should have failed toward you. Matters of the last 
importance alone are now delaying me here ; for although 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 2 1 3 

already^ thank God, I am leginning to find myself in 
some degree stronger, one or two little affairs still remain 
unsettled, ivliich none save myself can attend to; these 
transacted, I shall at once return, in obedience, Madame, 
to your commands. And in this, as in any other matter, 
require of me ivhat you will, and, with the grace of the 
Holy Spirit, it shall be a p)rivilege to me to comply. My 
ever dread and Sovereign Lady, may all felicity be yours. 
Wintten with my hand, this sixteenth day of April, 

Your most humble and obedient. 



CHAPTER LXXVI. 

How Madame handed her letters to Master Julien, and gave him his 
instructions. 

AND when Madame, out of lier great haste to get rid of 
Master Julien, had written her letters, she at once 
gave them to him, charging him hurriedly with a few 
words to the same effect, and which he was to carry to the 
Queen. And for that matter she treated him civilly 
enough, offering him only, however, a glass of wine, 
without anything more. And although, at the Court, he 
had been one of her most intimate friends and obedient 
servants, and he had been sent direct from the Queen, 
nevertheless, so impatient was she to see him off that she 
never even once asked for King, Queen, Lord, or Lady of 
her acquaintance, merely wishing him " Good-bye." 

Master Julien, who had seen enough of the carryings 
on of Madame and of Damp Abbot, and of all their 
sporting, whatever he may have thought of it all, judged 
it, however, advisable to keep his observations to himself. 
So, hoping she might speedily be more completely re- 
stored, he took his leave, and got as far that day as the 
place where he was to lie for the night. And so continued 



214 ^^^ History and pleasant Chronicle 

Master Julien by his posts that at last he got again to the 
presence of the Queen, who, as soon as ever she saw him, 
and before he could get up to her, called out to him, 
"Fair Cousin, comes she. Master Julien?" 

"Madame," said he, coldly, "to your grace she most 
humbly commends herself, and 1 was to tell you, you are 
soon to see her."' 

Then he delivered his letter, and told her anything 
farther she might have charged him with; but, like a 
sagacious man as he was, for the present he said no 
more. 

Then the Queen, who was no better satisfied with 
Madame's letter than with her message, said to Master 
Julien, " But how was she ; did she look well?" 

''Look well!" said Master Julien, ''I never in my 
life saw her looking better." 

"' And how does she pass her time?" said the Queen ; 
" what is she about ?" 

" hj my faith," said Master Julien, '' and that, 
Madame, is more than I can tell you, for I w^as hardly 
an hour with her altogether ; in such a hurry was she to 
give me my despatches, and to pack me off, that I neither 
had time to speak with Lady nor Gentlewoman ; neither 
Madame Jehanne, nor Madame Katharine, nor Madame 
Isabelle, nor man nor woman belonging to her, farther 
than to say, ' How are you, my friend ?' as I went in, and 
' God be with you, old fellow,' as I went out." 

Then the Queen said to him; '' Had you any means of 
judging whether she has any friends, or who they are?" 

Then he told her how he had found her at an abbey, 
where she had gone to procure pardons ; and how she had 
been at table with the Abbot, the two sitting opposite to 
one another, and hardly anybody else present ; and how, 
when she had heard his errand, and read the letters, she 
had seemed a good deal put about, and had sent for her 



oj little Jehan de Saintre. 2 1 5 

horses and gone home. Then he told her about the 
hunting; how the keeper had come in, and brought 
Damp Abbot word of* the great stag, and the number of 
hinds which Madame was to hunt the following day. But 
the affair of the ruby that he saw upon Damp Abbot's 
finger, like a wary man, he kept to himself. The Queen, 
when she had heard thus much, probably thinking it to be 
sufficient, asked him no more questions, simply forbidding 
him to mention the matter to any one ; at the same time, 
out of a respect for the reputation of Madame, adding, 
" We wiU all have our own ideas of happiness ; one this, 
another that : Madame has hers. " And with these words 
the Queen retired, a good deal thoughtful, half unwilling 
to believe that Madame would have ever so far forgotten 
herself j or laid herself open to so injurious a construction. 
And so she made up her mind to let another five or six 
weeks pass over before she would again either write or 
send. And when the five or six weeks had elapsed, and 
still no Madame appeared, nor yet tidings of* her, the 
Queen began to be a little nettled ; so she had fresh 
letters subscribed of the same tenor with the last. And 
she had them given to her own especial courier, with 
orders to make all the diligence he could, as well in going 
as on the way back. And when Master Courier arrived, 
he found Madame in the fields along with Damp Abbot, 
with whom she was afterwards to sup. And when 
Madame had seen and read the letter, there and then, 
without even so much as returning, she indited her 
answer, which was brief, and to this effect, That she 
would soon be back. And this she gave to the courier, 
without so much as offering him a morsel to eat, or a drop 
to drink, or once inquiring for King, or Queen, or any 
man or woman alive. And when the Queen had got 
Madame's answer, and read it, and heard how he had met 
her in the fields with Damp Abbot, she was a good deal 



2i6 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

annoyed, and quickly came to her own conclusions on the 
matter. And so she determined to write no more to her, 
and that she might come or stay away, exactly as it 
pleased herself. 

On the other hand, Madame, who had been in a mortal 
fright at the thoughts of having to leave her ghostly 
father, comforted him in every way she could, telling 
him, " Good friend, trust me for it, as long as it is pos- 
sible to find an excuse, or to put off the horrible hour, you 
and your company I will never forsake." 

Is it not enough ? In hunting, hawking, fowling, and 
all sorts of jollity, the greater part of the summer passed 
away. And now I will say no more of all their matters, 
or of all the comfort they were to one another, but I 
will return to the Lord de Saintre and his companions. 



CHAPTER LXXYII. 

How the Lord de Saintre and his companions came to the Court of 
the Emperor ; and how, to their great honour, they were delivered 
by the Lords, hereinafter named ; being all noblemen, and men 
of fame and reputation. 

The substance of this Chapter having, in its general character, 
already appeared, it is here omitted. — Translator. 



CHAPTER LXXVni. 
How the French arrived, and of the honours were paid them. 

This Chapter is suppressed, out of the same consideration that the 
last one was. — Translator. 



^^ 



of little Jehan de SaintrL 217 



CHAPTER LXXIX. 

How the battle went, and of the ordnance of the Emperor. 

The account of this battle is omitted. It is sufficient to say that, 
both sides doing valiantly, the Germans, of course, getting the worst 
of it ; the Emperor, to save the honour of his own people, interposes. 
— Translator, 



CHAPTER LXXX. 

How the Imperial King-at-arms distributed the prizes, and what he 
said to the champions. 

This Chapter, offering no new interest to the modern reader, is 
passed over. — Translator, 



CHAPTER LXXXI. 

How the Lord de Saintre and his companions returned to Paris, and 
came to see the King. 

THEN the Lord de Saintre, and the rest, his companions, 
came by Lnsarches to Saint-Cosme, and passing by 
the shrine of Saint Damien, they got, in the evening, to 
Saint Denis. And as soon as the news of their long- 
wished-fbr return was blown abroad, then were King, 
Queen, Lords, and Ladies, and indeed, everybody else in 
the highest spirits. And by the King^s orders, my Lords, 
the Dukes of Berry, and of Bourgoyne, the King's brothers, 
went out to meet him ; and at their return they placed 
him between them. And with them went the Counts de 
la Marche, de Flandres, de Clermont, de Eetel, de Brienne, 
de la Perche, de Beaumont, d'Armignac, the Count- 
dolphin d'Auvergne, all ordered, equally, to do him honour. 
And when they had got to the King, he gave them a most 
hearty reception, as did the Queen, as did the other Lords, 
Ladies, Gentlewomen, and, in fact, everybody connected 



2i8 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

with the Court. And, not to be tedious, as soon as they 
had all made their reverences, and the first congratulations 
were over, and the excitement, on seeing them, had begun 
a little to subside, the Lord de Saintre, amazed beyond all 
conception that he could no where see Madame, whom 
above all the world he was lono^inor most to have a word 
with, at once concluded, that something surely must have 
happened to her. So, making for Madame de Sancte- 
More, his cousin ; and first having chatted of one thing, 
then another, he presently said to her, carelessly, and as if 
he was thinking of something else, " But, Goody, what has 
become of Madame ? I see most of the old faces ; is she 
about, or is she ill ?" 

"Faith," said she, ''ill or not ill, she is ill enough in 
the graces of the Queen. For about three weeks after you 
left, something unaccountable came over her: so that, 
visibly, she was wasting away. And from what the 
Queen's physician said, she would certainly be very 
shortly either dead or in a consumption, supposing her 
native air to fail to bring her round. So, of course, the 
Queen told her, by all means, to go ; but to come back in 
two months. But, as at the end of the two months, and a 
half to the back of it, no Madame was making her appear- 
ance, the Queen wrote to her by Master Julien de Bray, re- 
minding her, that her time was up ; and since, she sent 
to her again. But all the answer she could ever get was, 
' Coming^ Madame; coming'^ but with all her coming, 
she has never come." 

And when the Lord de Saintre heard tell how Madame 
was ill, incontinent flashed upon him all she had ever told 
him, " How she never would know peace of mind again 
till she had seen him returned in safety." And surely, 
said he to himself. It was to hide herself, since her sorrow 
she could not, that she went. But, presently, comforting 
himself i he recollected, that if it was sorrow for his departure 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 219 

had driven her away, the tidings of his return, as assuredly, 
would bring her back. However, on reflection, he came to 
the conclusion, that, considering everything, he could not 
do better than be, himself, the herald of his own right- 
glorious self. And continuing, some ten or twelve days, in 
the same opinion, he then said to the King, ''Sir, if it 
would be your good pleasure to allow me to absent myself 
for some few days, 1 should feel myself very greatly in- 
debted to you. My Lady-Mother is solicitous to see me." 

To which the King replied, " How, Saintre ; oflf again? 
But if your mother really does wish to see you, by all 
means go, and you may remain for a month." 

And when the Lord de Saintre had thanked him, he set 
to work, and never stopped, day or night, till he had got 
himself, and all his people, and his horses, and everything 
about him in the sprucest order, the better to delight 
Madame, and take her by surprise. And when he had taken 
his leave of the King, the Queen, and my Lords, he got on 
his horse, nor ever once halted, but to rest, till he had got 
to the good town, at one league from the hotel where 
Madame stayed, and there he dined. And then he 
dressed and refreshed himself. And when he had put 
on a doublet of satin, trimmed with gold ; with scarlet 
stockings, all worked in the device and colours of 
Madame ; with a natty little cap upon his head, as was 
the fashion of those times, with a brooch in it ; thus 
arrayed, accompanied by two Knights and seven Squires ; 
all in a no less costly attire ; with the like robes and 
devices ; he set out for the hotel of Madame. And when 
they had got to the door, and had knocked, the porter in- 
quired of them, " What it was they wanted ?" 

To which the Lord de Saintre replied, " that he was 
anxious to see Madame, and that he might say, the Lord 
Saintre was there." 

'^She is out, then," said the porter; "she went this 



220 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

morning to the Abbey to hear mass ; and she was to stay- 
dinner. " 

So, from that he went to the Abbey. And when he got 
there, he found that they had already dined ; and that, 
after dinner and bed, Madame and Damp Abbot had 
gone out hawking. Then, having first inquired, '' in 
what direction he was most likely to fall in with them?" 
he told four or five of his people to put their spurs to their 
horses, one this way, one that ; and that, as soon as they 
should see any ladies in the fields, they were to come 
back at once, and tell him. And so they all dispersed 
about ; and, in a very few minutes, one of them came 
riding in post haste to tell him, " that he had seen a 
party of at least twenty, on horseback ; and that seven or 
eight of them appeared Ladies, and evidently persons of 
condition." 

Then this faithful Knight, who, till the instant after, 
never so much as suspected or dreamt of the falseness of 
his Lady, clapping spurs to his horse, made, as fast as its 
legs would carry him, for the presence of her whom above 
all the world he longed the most to feast his eyes upon. 
And as soon as he saw her, his heart began to bound 
within him ; half conscious to himself of the pretty and 
the noble fellow he looked. And with this, he rode right 
up to her. But before he had reached her, one of the 
monks of Damp Abbot, who had been observing Saintre 
and his party, coming up to Damp Abbot, who was along- 
side of Madame, told him " to look, for he strongly sus- 
pected there must be strangers about, or something wrong." 
And when Damp Abbot looked closer, and saw the strange 
faces, and horsemen all galloping about the country, he 
was not too much at his ease, for he thought with himself, 
surely these are Madame's brothers and people, who have 
heard all about our carryings on, and they have now come 
down to make mince-meat of poor Damp Abbot. Then, 



of little JeJian de Saintre, 221 

on the instant, he wheeled his mule round, leaving 
Madame to her fate, and made off; his hawk upon his 
fist, and his three monks after him, their big-bellied 
bottles, and their prog-baskets dangling to the wind. 
However, Madame, her hawk upon her wrist, and seated 
on her good stout cob, and who was not so easily to 
be frightened out of her presence of mind, quietly stood 
her ground, to see who in the world it could be. And as 
soon as her people perceived it to be the Lord de Saintre, 
and had told her so ; turning on them, she said in a fury, 
" May the devil seize the lot of you ! And is that any 
reason why, for one man, you should all scamper off like 
that?" 

And as she was yet speaking, the Lord de Saintre, now 
breathless with emotion, was alighting from his horse. 
And when Madame saw him on the ground, she said, 
aloud to him, so that all might hear, " Sir, Sir, a more 
unwelcome guest may it never be my part to entertain !" 

This, however, so little reached the ears of Saintre, 
that, in an instant, he was down upon his knee; and, 
taking her by the hand, had already begun, " Ha, and 
how are you, my ever-to-be-redoubted Lady ; and what 
are you doing ?" 

"How am I?" said she; "and cannot you look for 
yourself ? Doing ? do you not see that I have my hawk 
on my hand, and that I am sitting in my saddle ?" 

And without more ado, she turned her horse's head, 
and calling to her people, told them "to lead on, for 
that there was no occasion for their stopping ;" letting 
them plainly see how little account she made of Saintre. 

Saintre, who, this time, heard Madame clear enough, 
did not exactly know either what to think of it or what 
to do. However, as the Ladies and Gentlewomen came 
up, he shook them by the hand, and kissed them, and em- 
braced them. Then he mounted again on his horse, and 



222 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

went after Madame. And when lie got alongside of her, 
in a distressed tone he said to her, " Hey, Madame; can 
you possibly have meant it, when you spoke to me the 
way you did ; or was it only done to try me ? How had 
you the heart to speak so cruelly to one who has loved 
you so long, and never yet, in his life, disobeyed you? 
Hey, Madame, some one has been imposing upon you. If 
it be so, depend upon it, time and I will clear all up." 

To this, Madame, who all the while was wishing him 
far enough, only replied, ''Is there no other string but 
that you have to harp upon ? if not, you may just as well 
give over at once." 

And by the time all this had passed, Damp Abbot had 
begun to be a little recovered of his fright ; so calling to 
him one of his monks, he bade him ask the maitre-d'hotel 
" Who tills strange Lord was?" And when Damp Abbot 
heard that it was the Lord de Saintre ; now reassured, he 
came to him at once, and paid him his respects, saying, 
'' Most honoured Lord, be you the very welcome ; you, 
and all your honourable company ; for, I can assure you, 
there is not a noble in the land I have lono;er wished to 
lay my eyes on than yourself." 

The Lord de Saintre comprehending, on hearing this, 
and seeing him, that he was an Abbot, and his people 
were monks ; said to him, '' Damp Abbot, you are wel- 
come, as are all with you." 

" Sir," said Damp Abbot, who was now himself again, 
"and what think you of the condescension of this noble 
Lady ; thus deigning to honour with her presence the 
parlour of her poor confessor ; to hunt with an unfortunate 
monk like myself?" 

" Madame," said the Lord de Saintre, '' is a Lady of all 
honour, and none of more discernment. There is no 
pleasanter pastime ; and Madame has been ever a friend to 
the church." 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 223 

These compliments interchanged, Damp Abbot gradually 
fell back, leaving Madame and the Loi'd de Saintre to- 
ge,ther. And as the vesper bell was now heard, and they 
were approaching the convent, Damp Abbot sent one of 
his monks to the maitre-d'hotel, bidding him to sound 
Madame, as to whether she would wish the Lord de 
Saintre to be invited to remain for supper. Then the 
maitre-d'hotel came to Madame, and asked her, " If she 
would wish the Lord de Saintre to sup with her ?" 

To which, Madame, who had not distinctly heard him, 
only rejoined, by ordering him, '' to speak up, that she 
could hear." 

So he asked her the same thing again, and, this time, 
loud enough for Saintre to overhear. 

And when Madame understood what he wanted, after a 
mementos reflection, she replied, " Ask him, if you have 
a mind ; but if he wants to go, he need not be under any 
ceremony on my account." 

On hearing this, which he did clearly enough, the Lord 
de Saintre thought he had better decline at once, without 
exposing himself to any sort of pressing. Whilst Madame, 
now sick of him and his prayers, kept telling every one, " that 
she was tired, and to get home as quick as they could." 

Now, Damp Abbot, who knew well what became a 
gentleman, had already gone on before, so as to have all 
things in readiness. Atid when they were come, the 
Lord de Saintre got off his horse, offering his assistance to 
Madame to do the same. But she called for one of her 
own people. And when they had both alighted, the Lord 
de Saintre was about to take his leave of Madame. And 
as she was holding out her hand to him. Damp Abbot, to 
show him his respect, said to Madame, '' Madame, and is 
he then to go ? it remains with you." 

"With him," said Madame. 

Then Damp Abbot said to him, "Ha, my Lord de 



224 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

Saintre; bear a little with Madame. Be entreated to 
stay." 

Then the Lord de Saintre said to Damp Abbot, " Ha, 
Damp Abbot ; your first request it would be uncivil and 
ill-natured to decline." 

Then the Lord de Saintre kept with him two Squires, 
a varlet, and a page only, sending the remainder of his 
people to the good town to get their supper ; and telling 
the maitre-d'hotel that they were all to come back to him, 
after, to Madame's. And by this time, the tables were 
laid, and supper all ready. Then Madame washed her 
hands first ; and next. Damp Abbot and the Lord de 
Saintre. And then on account of his position and his 
dignity, Damp Abbot was placed at the middle of the 
table, with his face turned toward Madame, who was at 
the other side, and with lier back to the wall. And, 
after Madame ' came the Lord de Saintre, then Madame 
Jehanne, and Madame Katharine next. Then salad was 
first handed round ; of which Madame and Damp Abbot 
ate freely. Then came the larger dishes, all futl of 
young rabbits, partridges, pigeons, of which they all ate, 
and then washed well down with the best of wines ; 
Beaulne, de Tournon, Saint-Poursain. And when all 
their bellies began to be pretty well filled, it was not long 
after till their tongues com.menced to wag ; and, inconti- 
nent, Damp Abbot began to be facetious. And anon he 
said, " Ho ! my Lord de Saintre ; ho ! wake up, sir, wake 
up ; I see well by your manner, and your half- lined guts, 
that you are either half asleep or dreaming !" 

Then the Lord de Saintre said to him, " Far from it, 
my Lord Abbot ; really, all these good things of yours, 
and these excellent wines I find before me, are keeping me 
so busy, that, to tell you the truth, I have room to think 
of little else." 

Then said Damp Abbot, *^ My Lord de Saintre, do you 



of little Jehan de SaiiitrS, 225 

know, it has often occurred to me, in a quiet way, that, 
occasionally, it may have happened among you others, 
Noblemen, Knights, and Squires, to be capable of putting 
tricks on us, poor stick-at-homes ; telling us how you 
were the conquerors at this or that tilt or tournament, 
when, God knows, things went a very other way." Then 
turning himself to Madame, he appealed to her, demand- 
ing of her, '' If it was not so ?" 

'' Faith, Abbot," said Madame, " it is no more than the 
truth, and likely enough. Good sir, say on, for you seem 
to me perfectly to understand the matter." 

'' Madame," said he, ^' if I do, remember, it must be 
by your orders, and with your consent ; for, possibly, my 
Lord de Saintre may not be equally disposed to take it all 
in like good part ; but since you have put it on me, 
Madame, my opinion is this : — There is a certain sort of 
Knight and Squire, for the most part to be found, as well 
in the King's Court, as the Queen's, and those of great 
Lords and Princes, generally, who give themselves out to 
the world, to be the devoted champions of the Ladies. 
And to work themselves the better into your good graces, 
if not in them already, they will ever have tears at their 
command, and so sigh and mourn, and rave, and come the 
disconsolate ; that out of sheer commiseration, you, poor 
Ladies, whose hearts are naturally but too tender and 
compassionate, inch by inch, are encompassed in their 
toils ; so that, at last, they have their pleasure of you. 
And then they go to a second, and then a third. And 
they will take for their badge, a garter, or a bracelet, a 
smock, a turnip, or a pig, or, God only knows what 
trumpery ; and then they will tell some dozen of them, 
sighing, one after the other, — ' Ah, Madame, it is for your 
sake I am wearing this token !' So, goodness only knows 
how the unfortunate wretches are gammoned of their 
lovers ; one, one way ; one, another. As for sincerity, 

Q 



226 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

it is a word their mothers never taught them. And then, 
as if it was not enough to gull their Ladies ; for their 
further recreation, they must worm themselves into the 
good graces of King, Queen, and all the world and his 
wife ; at whose expense they fig themselves out. What 
say you, Madame ; is it not the case ?" 

Madame, to whom all this lecture suited most wonder- 
fully, smiling, said to him, '' Abbot, how came you to have 
learned all this ? Methinks, however, you are not far from 
the mark." And as she spoke, she put her foot on Damp 
Abbot's toes. 

''And farther than this, Madame," said Damp Abbot, 
'' you may not be aware, that when these famous Paladins, 
Knights and Squires, are about to set out on some won- 
derful exploit or other, and they have taken their leave 
of the King, no matter for where ; let it but happen to be 
cold, and they take the way of Germany ; there to pass 
the winter ; chaflfing with the girls over good hot stoves. 
But if it happens to be summer, they will be oif to the 
delicious realms of Sicily, or of Arragon ; there, amid the 
fragrant groves, by purling fountains, the orange and the 
lime, to bask the hours away, surrounded by the lovely 
houris of the land. And glad enough are the gentry of 
the same to see them ; and the best of wine, and fruit, 
and cheer is theirs. And then, when they think they 
have been long enough away, they get some Trumpet or 
other, or a Herald, with a sign-board on his back, and 
sticking one of their old cloaks upon his shoulders, they 
give him an ecus to shout about the country, ^ My Lord^ 
as the most valiant, has gained the prize of Arms F Poor 
Ladies how easily are you imposed upon ! and, from my 
soul, I pity you." 

Madame, who, on hearing this, was so delighted, that, 
more she could not be, turning her head a little round, said 
to the Lord de Saintre, who was exceedingly displeased 



of little JeJian de Saintre. 227 

to hear so injurious an affront thus laid to the door of his 
order, " My Lord de Saintre, what have you to reply to 
this ?" 

But before he could speak^ Damp Abbot went on to say, 
'' Madame you have all your life lived among them ; if it 
is not as much, you must know it." 

Then said Madame, " AVe must certainly allow we have 
met with some who were capable of better things, but we 
are far from being able to answer for all. However, as a 
general principle, we think, Damp Abbot, you are not far 
off the truth." 

A.nd as she said it, she kept winking and nodding to 
Damp Abbot, and then she would touch him with her 
foot. On seeing this the Lord de Saintre said, " Ha, 
Madame, you are saying this on purpose; however, I 
pray God you may yet return to another mind, and be 
better informed/' 

'' And how would you have Madame better informed?" 
said Damp Abbot, " she cannot know better than she does 
already." 

"As to knowing," said the Lord de Saintre, "I have 
nothing to say; Madame is at liberty to express the 
opinions she thinks proper ; but as to yourself, and the 
licence you have permitted your tongue, in declaring your 
notions of Knights and noble men, I have to tell you, 
that if you were a party to whom it would become me 
to reply, you should not long be wanting for an answer. 
But mindful as well of my own dignity, as of who and 
what you. Damp Abbot, are, I am now silent. It may so 
hap, however, that on some other and more fitting occa- 
sion,, the subject will prove such as I shall return upon." 

Damp Abbot, now head and tail alike on fire, as if 
determined to affront the Lord' de Saintre, appealing to 
Madame, said, ''Madame, you have been the means of 
having me insulted in your own house !" 



228 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

And as he said it, the war of toes went on more hard 
than ever. And when he saw Madame continue to nod, 
and wink, and smile, and encourage him, he well knew 
the sport was to her mind ; so he said, " Ho, my Lord de 
Saintre ! ho, my Lord de Saintre ! I am no man of war, or 
man of blood ; I am but a poor simple beadsman, with my 
all upon my back. For the love of God, Sir, is it for the 
like of me to fight with you ? But should there be any 
one, and I care not one fico for the Who, who will under- 
take to contradict me in this quarrel, and to wrestle me 
upon it, I'm his man !" 

'' Would you, then," said Madame, " would you 
really?" 

"Madame," said he, "at the worst, I can but be 
thrown ; but please God, who will be on my side, and the 
truth and justice of my cause, I will get the better of him, 
be he the bio^o^est butcher of the lot of them." 

All this while the Lord de Saintre, who could not but 
see at whom all these outrao^es were aimed, hearing; such 
encouragement on the part of Madame, was feeling as if 
his very heart would split, and was wishing himself a 
thousand times dead. Madame, who saw all this well, 
without appearing, however, to take any sort of notice of 
it, said to him, "Ha, my Lord de Saintre, you, the con- 
queror, as they tell us, of so many a hard-fought field, fear 
you to wrestle with Damp Abbot ? Certainly, if you do 
not, I shall be forced to think as he does of the matter." 

"Ah, Madame," said he, "you know well that I never 
was taught to wrestle, and that these Lords of churchmen 
are adepts at the art, as at tennis, hurl-bat, pitch-bar, and 
every pastime of the sort. They are their only recreations 
when among themselves, and, for this reason, I know well, 
Madame, that I would not have a chance with him.^' 

"At least try," said she, "you can do your best ; and 
you have my word for it, that if you do not, you shall be 



oj little Jehan de SaintrL 229 

posted in every place I go, for a false and craven-hearted 
Knight." 

" Grod, Madame !" said he, starting up, " and this to 
me ! One would think I had done enough to satisfy any 
woman ; but since such is your pleasure, you shall be 
obeyed." 

" What's that he says?'* said Damp Abbot. 

" He says, Abbot," said Madame, '' that he will accept 
your challenge, for that he has been in greater scrapes in 
his time, yet come out of them triumphant." 

" He has, then, has he ?" said Damp Abbot, " we'll see 
for that, presently." 

Then, without waiting another second, or till a single 
thing was removed, Damp Abbot jumped up in an 
ecstacy, and next Madame rose, and then the Lord de 
Saintre, to the amazement of all the rest of the company. 
And the sun was now about setting.^'^^ Then Damp 
Abbot took Madame by the arm, and led her into a fair 
smooth green, and placing her under a spreading pine, 
bade her " be seated, and to be their judge." 

Then Madame sat down, more joyous than she had ever 
been before in all her life, calling to her women to sit 
down by her. But they, to see all this, however much 
they might dissimulate, for Madame's sake, their feelings, 
at heart were not over-well pleased. Then went Damp 
Abbot through a ceremony, which neither Saint Benoist, 
Saint Richard, Saint Augustin, Saint Bernard, nor any 
other Saint or Father of Holy Church was ever known to 
have performed in his living ; for, there and then, before 
them all, he stripped himself to his doublet, and letting 
down his stockings to his knees, fastened them, with a 
wisp, at the same. Thus arrayed, he was the first to 
make his appearance before Madame. And when he had 
paid her his reverence, for her farther gratification, and 
that of the company, he next threw a great summersault, 



230 The History and pleasant Chromcle 

displaying his great big brawny arms and thighs, all hairy 
over like any bear. And after him came the Lord de 
Saintre, who, at a little distance, had undressed himself, 
his stockings all richly sown in pearl and gold. And he, 
too, came to pay his respects to Madame, smothering, as 
best he could, the mortification and humiliation of his 
soul. And presently they were facing one another ; but 
before either of them had time to lay hold, Damp Abbot, 
all of a sudden wheeled about, and throwing himself 
imploringly on his knees before Madame, said to her, wdth 
uplifted hands, " Ah, Madame, entreat for me to the 
Lord de Saintre !" 

Then Madame, who was well acquainted with Damp 
Abbot's powers, laughing, said to the Lord de Saintre, 
" Hey, my Lord de Saintre, we recommend to you our 
Abbot ; do not, for our sake, be too hard with him." 

To which the Lord de Saintre, who too w^ell saw 
through all this raillery, only said, '' Alas, Madame, it is 
he who will have to spare me." 

And when he had said this. Damp Abbot and the Lord 
de Saintre closed, and made a feint or two. Then Damp 
Abbot put out his leg, and by a twitch of his foot sent 
the Lord de Saintre flying head over heels ; the said 
Lord falling on the grass, on the flat of his back, with his 
legs in the air. Then Damp Abbot, striding across him, 
as he lay there, cried out, as in distress, to Madame — " Ah, 
Madame, recommend me to the Lord de Saintre !'^ 

Tlien Madame, laughing as if she would burst, said to 
him, " Ah, Lord de Saintre, hear Damp Abbot's prayer !" 
but for the way she was tickled, she could not add 
another word. 

Then Damp Abbot got up on his legs, and said aloud, 
so that all might hear, '^ Madame, what I have done, was 
out of love ; the God of heaven, and the God of love have 
fought on my side, and avenged my quarrel. And if the 



of little JeJian de Saintre. 231 

Lord de Saintre should now be disposed to assert that he 
loves his lady better than I do mine, here am I, all simple 
and naked as I am, ready and willing to attest the con- 
trary.'' 

''You are, are you?" said Madame. 

''Aye, against him, or any other man," said Damp 
Abbot. 

Then said Madame, smiling, to the Lord de Saintre, 
" What say you to this, my Lord de Saintre ? surely as a 
gentleman and a man of honour, you are bound to take 
it up." 

"Madame," replied he, "and as a gentleman, had it 
been toward a gentleman, I had taken it up, and in such 
a manner too as gentlemen alone are privileged to take 
such matters up." 

"That is but an idle evasion," said Madame, "to get 
out of it. It should be taunt enough to raise the spirit of 
any gentleman, to be told that he dare not stand up in 
defence of his Lady ; but faith, methinks whoever looks 
for spirit in you, will have to look hard before he finds it." 

" Alas, Madame," said the Lord de Saintre, "and why 
should you say that ?" 

"I say it," said Madame, "because I cannot help 
saying it. Do not I see you this moment afraid ?" 

Then said the Lord de Saintre, " I see clearly, Madame, 
there is nothing for it but to commence again ; and that 
there is no sort of excuse, however reasonable, to which 
you are disposed to lend an ear. So, since it is your 
determination, I bow to it." 

Then Damp Abbot, as soon as he had caught his words, 
by way of farce, said, " Ha, Madame, pardon me this 
once ; for if, by any chance, I have not justice on my side, 
he will certainly get the better of me, so sorely was I 
put to it in our last encounter. Madame, it is true all 
they say of him, nor does it at all surprise me. However, 



232 The Sistory and pleasant Chronicle 

since 1 have brought it on myself, I suppose I must go 
through with it." 

Then they each stepped back a few paces. Then Damp 
Abbot, who was by this, with excitement, half wild and 
out of his wits, began to cry, at the top of his voice, " Ha, 
Fidelity, guard now thy faithful slave !" And with this, 
he came a trick which had well nigh laid the Lord de 
Saintre sprawling. However, by a sort of miracle, he 
recovered his feet, but it was only to find himself, at 
the end of one or two closes, where, from the first, he 
too well knew he would have to come — the flat of his 
back. 

Then said Damp Abbot to Madame, ''Madame, you are 
our judge. It is for you to say, have I acquitted myself 
as became me ? Which of us is the most loyal ?'^ 

"Which!" echoed Madame; ''it is you that have 
gained." 

Whilst the poor Lord de Saintre, broken-hearted to 
perceive not only that he had got the worst of it, but that 
his discomfiture was an occasion of triumph to Madame, 
could not so much as find a word to say. Then they both 
retired to dress. 

All this while, the two Squires that Saintre had re- 
tained about him, had like to die with grief and spite, thus 
to see Madame and Damp Abbot twitting and laughing at 
the Lord de Saintre, than whom, in all the realm of 
France, there lived not, that day, a gallanter gentleman, or 
a nobler Knight. So, as he was coming away, they said 
to him, " Our Lord, it will be more than human in you if 
you forbear to revenge this day^s brutality." 

But he only said to them, "My friends, do not be 
distressing yourselves. Keep quiet ; never fear, I'll put 
all this to rights." 

Then the Lord de Saintre, who had now for ever 
extinguished in his breast all love or hope of Madame, 



oj little Jehan de Saintre. 233 

indignant at such treatment from one whom he had so 
passionately loved and faithfully served, feigning to take 
it all in good part, carried himself as though he had not, 
in any way, taken his defeat to heart. So, good-hum ouredly, 
and as if half talking to himself, he said to Madame, 
" Alas, Madame, it is a thousand pities such a man as my 
Lord Abbot, of such a build and strength, should never 
have been brought up to the noble science of arms. Such 
a man should have been defending the marches of our 
Lord, the King. I much question if there are above one 
or two men in all this reahn who would dare to meet him 
in an open field." 

Then Damp Abbot, on hearing so handsome a tribute to 
his prowess, scarcely now knowing whether he was on his 
head or his heels, turned another great summersault, to 
the no small entertainment of Madame and the remainder 
of the company. Then he sent for wine and cherries to 
refresh them all. 

Of the Embassy from the Convent. 
And while all these fine Oljonpics were going on, word 
was suddenly brought to the priors, and other more 
venerable ecclesiastics of the convent, all about the 
wrestling, and the taunting of Madame and of Damp 
Abbot. And as they had long been sufl£ciently scandalized 
with Damp Abbot's course of life, which they well knew 
to be not only such as it were unbecoming a churchman to 
lead, but such as it would but ill become any other man to 
lead, they came to the conclusion, there and then, that 
two of their body should be deputed to Damp Abbot on 
the part of the convent, and who were to expostulate with 
him as follows : — 

The Embassy from the Convent. 
" Eight reverend father in God, and our very honoured 
Lord, the Priors and administrators of your convent, una 



234 ^^ History and pleasant Chronicle 

voce dicentes, with their most humble and beseeming 
duties, accredit us to you, instructing us to apprise you 
how they have heard with pleasure that, on more than 
one occasion, you have entertained our ever-to-be-re- 
doubted Lady, as well at dinners as at suppers, as on other 
occasions, for all which, seeing that she is at once our 
Lady and our Foundress, the convent cannot sufficiently 
express its obligation to you ; and this the more, that it 
has been the means of procuring for our poor house the 
honour of the presence of such a Lord as the Lord de 
Saintre, of whom common rumour speaks so loudly, and 
whom we believe to stand most highly with our Lord the 
King. But seeing that, owing to some provocation on 
your part, this Lord was, as it were, compelled to wrestle 
with you ; and not only that, but thrown several times, 
and after ridiculed by you ; conduct but ill becoming any 
prelate or any churchman, under what reserve soever, but, 
least of all, openly, being a thing forbidden by our rules 
and statutes : for all this, our convent is exceedingly 
disturbed and distressed, and so we have to pray and 
beseech of you, that you will endeavour, in some way or 
other, to accommodate matters, and that, before he leaves, 
all causes of jealousy may be removed, as well from your- 
self as the convent in our persons. And we have to let 
you know that if any mischief, or misunderstanding what- 
soever comes of it, to the damage either of us or of our 
house, we shall not hold you excused, but will, on the 
contrary, lay all the responsibility to your door. And for 
this you will be pleased to pardon us all." 

The reply of Damp Abbot, and of the remedy he applied. 

The Authok. 

Damp Abbot, having heard all this sermon, and the 
remonstrance of his convent, replied to them, " Priors, 
return to your brethren, and tell them that all I did was 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 235 

out of pure frolic and gaiety of heart. Say, they are not to 
be uneasy, for, before he goes, I will have made it all 
right/' 



A 



CHAPTER LXXXII. 

How Damp Abbot appeased the Lord de Saintre. 

ND after all this embassy from the convent had been 
received and dismissed, wine and cherries began 
walking round again, and every one was merry and jolly 
to their hearts' content. And when they all had drunk, 
Damp Abbot took the Lord de Saintre by the hand, and 
drawing him aside, said to him; ''My Lord de Saintre, 
once, with God's permission, I had the honour of seeing 
you in my poor hotel, which, if you would deign to accept 
of it, shall be yours. And this, I had long wished for, 
so much had I heard of you. And now, as a favour, I 
have to ask you, if you would, again, with Madame, con- 
fer a like honour on me, and dine with me quietly to- 
morrow. You will not refuse me, I know : and, indeed, 
it is a gratification I shall not readily forget." 

The answer of the Lord de Saintre, and the prayers of Damp Abbot. 

Saintee. 

" My Lord Abbot, for your first dinner, and the hearty 
cheer and reception I then met with, as sincerely as I can, 
I thank you. And for your second oflTer of a dinner to- 
morrow, I do no less cheerfully also thank you ; and which 
nothing less than some afiairs to be attended to in the 
good town, and which it would never do to neglect, could 
possibly prevent my accepting." 

''Alas," said Damp Abbot, "I am sorry for this. Sir, 
if I did anything, out of mere thoughlessness and frolic to 
annoy you, I humbly entreat I may be forgiven. Sir, I 



236 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

have one of the best and handsomest mules in the kingdom, 
let who will have the second ; I have as noble a falcon, 
whether for the water, or the wing, as any man alive ; 
and I have three thousand ecus. Sir, besides the King 
and the Pope, there is not the man in Chiistendom, save 
yourself, to whom I would part with one of them. As 
humbly as I can, I ask, entreat and implore, that, which 
you please, of my three oflfers, you will deign to accept at 
my hands ; and that you will pardon me, and we may 
part good friends." 

The Loed de Saintke. 

" My Lord Abbot, as for the mule, it is not exactly the 
kind of thing which it is my manner to mount. Your 
three thousand ecus, were I in any sort of want of 
them, believe me, I would not hesitate, one single half- 
second, to take them from you. As regards your beautiful 
falcon, it is otherwise. It shall be accepted, out of a respect 
to you. I will not, however, deprive you of it ; use it for 
my sake, and should anybody, at any time, ever happen 
to ask it from you, you have only to tell them, that it is 
the Lord de Saintre's. One thing, however, in return, I 
have to hope, and that is, that you will not deny me the 
first request I ever make you." 

''And what is it?" said Damp Abbot; '' I am at your 
service : on my honour, if it is in my power, you shall 
most willingly be obeyed." 

" Truth?" said the Lord de Saintre. 

" Yes ; on my salvation," said Damp Abbot. 

Then the Lord de Saintre said to him, '' All I would 
ask is the honour of entertaining you and Madame, the 
day after to-morrow at dinner." 

''But that!" said Damp Abbot. "Then that I can 
answer for at once, for both of us. One thing, however, 
you must engage for : there is to be no sort of extrava- 



of little Jehan de SaintrL 237 

The Author. 

Then, the best friends in the world, and all made up 
and forgotten, the two of them come together to Madame, 
and the Lord de Saintre repeats his prayer. But the 
instant Madame heard it she as instantly demurred, nor 
would she listen, for a moment, to anything Saintre could 
say. Then Damp Abbot took her on one side, and said to 
her, " Indeed, Madame, but you must come. I have 
undertaken for both of us, and I have given him my word ; 
and you will get me both into trouble and disgrace, 
if we fail to keep our word. Besides, Madame, think of 
how matters stand between you and me : our position is 
ticklish enough. It is the mischief to make enemies of 
these cocked-up, spiteful, sneaking rascals from the Court. 
One should have a heed of them, as they would of hot 
iron. And it was for this reason, Madame, I said we 
would go ; and you must really come ; for if we do, he 
will be conciliated, and aU forgotten. Otherwise, he will 
never forgive me for having thrown him." 

Then Madame, who could neither divert Damp Abbot, 
nor yet refuse him, at last said, '^ Well ; be it, since you 
are so bent on it." 

Then Damp Abbot, in great glee, called the Lord de 
Saintre to him, and said, '^ My Lord ; my high and 
mighty Lady, whom you here see, merely refused you, 
fearing that it might have been your purpose to offer her 
somethiag altogether too unconscionable, and out of all 
bounds. This she was wishing to spare you. However, 
I have assured her, that everytliing is to be as modest as 
she could wish." 

Then the Lord de Saintre said, '' Let us drop ceremony. 
To courtiers like ourselves, Damp Abbot, and Madame, a 
fine table can be but a poor treat. Now and then, to 
rough it, is a pleasant change. Something solid if we can ; 



238 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

and a glass of good wine, at any rate we will manage to 
provide. I am sure Madame will not be difficult for once, 
but will put up with it as if it were better." 

And when he said this, the horses and the cobs were 
at the door. Then Madame and the Lord de Saintre 
thanked Damp Abbot, and took their leave of him till the 
following day but one. And when they got outside the 
gate, as hard as ever her horse could lay foot to the 
ground, Madame and her people made home. And as she 
was galloping, from time to time the Lord de Saintre 
would bring his horse along side of Madame's, and say to 
her, ^' Ha, Madame, what is it I have done to you? Is 
there the man, in this world, who dare assert that I have 
not loyally served you, or loved you with my whole heart." 

"Truly, Sir," said the Lady, "you showed as much 
when you strove with Damp Abbot. You will oblige me 
by troubling me no more about such matters, and leaving 
me to myself" 

The Lord de Saintre, who saw, clearly enough, how 
matters now stood ; and who neither wished to be restored 
to her good graces, nor would have deigned, even at her 
entreaty, to be again to her what he had been, in speak- 
ing to her, had only wanted to let her see that he was 
alive enough to the scurvy jest she had put upon him ; 
though of her new amour, he might say nothing. And 
when they had got to Madame's hotel, and before he was 
able to alight, Madame said to him, " Now you may go, 
my Lord de Saintre, for I have affairs to attend to in 
doors ; and you have after to-morrow's work before you." 

So he got his leave to go, with an " Adieu, till after to- 
morrow." 

Then the Lord de Saintre, whose head was full enough 
with all the matter of the past and coming day, put spurs 
to his horse, and made straight for the town, and the 
quarter where all his people were to be. And in a little 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 239 

time he was with them, finding them ail waiting where he 
had ordered tliem to attend him. 

Tlien he called to him his maitre-d'hotel, and told him, 
that Madame and Damp Abbot were to dine with him the 
next day, and that he was to use all the diligence he 
could to get together provisions in plenty, and of the best 
sort ; and good drink, as well for her as all her people. 
And he told him that he was to settle beforehand with the 
landlord for anything they might have spent, or v/ould 
have to spend. And at the same time, he gave him ten 
ecus for the use of the varlets and ostlers of the hotel. 
And he gave orders that, in the morning, his horses and 
his trunks, with the mass of his people, were to leave ; some 
ten or twelve only remaining to follow with himself. And 
it was all done. And, after that, as soon as he was in his 
room, he sent for his host, and said to him, apart ; '' Good 
host, can you think of any Gentleman, or citizen of the 
place, something of the build of yonder great Squire ?" 
pointing to one of his own people. 

''Yes, my Lord," said the host, ''more than one." 
" But have they armour of the best, I mean the primest 
quality ?" said Saintre. 

Then he inquired, " Who it was had the best ?" and 
when he was told, he then asked the host, "to be good 
enough to request the person named, to let the Lord de 
Saintre see him." And so he did. 

And when the cit had come, and had made his scrape 
to the Lord de Saintre, who met him with all the civility 
imaginable, the Lord de Saintre said to him, "Jacques, 
who in this country has the best store of armour ?" 

" My Lord," said he, " many keep it ; but, without 
vanity, I may say that I have four or five as complete 
suits as any gentleman or townsman of the place." 

"Then, by the Lord Saint Jacques," said the Lord 
de Saintre, " it redounds to your credit. As you have a 



240 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

suit, no doubt that fits yourself; do you think you could 
manage to find another would answer to yon Knight?" 
indicating one of his party who was about the same size 
with himself, Saintre. 

"My Lord," said he, ''I can supply you; and they 
shall be such as you will in every way be satisfied with. 
But what sort of helmets will you have ?" 

"Jacques, my brother," said the Lord de Saintre, "I 
want them not too heavy ; and two axes and daggers must 
be with them : and all alike ; and make yourself easy 
about them ; you shall be no loser by your bargain." 

"Lose! what an idea," said Jacques, who could now 
scarce contain himself, so flattered was he to be in the 
presence of the Lord de Saintre. "There is nothing I 
have that is not at your service. But when must you 
have them ?" 

" Why, I should like them at once," said the Lord de 
Saintre, " but you must bring them in a bag or a trunk, 
for I Avould not wish any one to see them coming." 

Then, as quickly as he could, Jacques went to his home, 
and brought, quietly, the two suits, all fine, and furbished 
up, and the two axes, and the daggers ; and to see them, 
the Lord de Saintre was well satisfied. And when that 
night was passed, and the next day come, and the Lord 
de Saintre had heard mass, and sent away all his baggage 
and his people saving only twelve ; and had seen the 
tables laid, and that all would be ready by his return, he 
got upon his horse, followed by all his company, and set 
out to meet and escort Madame. And when he had got 
about half way to her hotel, he met Madame and Damp 
Abbot in the fields.^^^^ And when they were about to inter- 
change their mutual salutations. Damp Abbot commenced, 
and said, " Halt, there, my Lord de Saintre ! Speak of 
the wolf, and you will see his tail, or his ears. My Lord 
de Saintre, but did you not hear our horns ?" 



of little JeJian de Saintre, 241 

"I hardly know, really," said he. ''I rather thought 
you would have been coining by the road. But have you 
breakfasted, Madame, and you, my Lord Abbot ?" 

'' We have," said Madame ; ^' to keep out the fog, we 
took a snatch, with a little ypocras, and a la poudre de 
ducr 

" You certainly did right, Madame," said he, "and you 
too, my Lord Abbot." 

And so chatting, they all continued together ; Madame, 
however, always addressing herself to Damp Abbot. 
Then the Lord de Saintre, seeing that he might as well 
be talking to the winds, reining in his horse, fell along- 
side of Madame Jehanne, thinking to enter into conversa- 
tion with her. But she only told him, " that, for the 
present, she could dispense with his civilities." 

Then he went to Madame Katharine, then to Madame 
Isabelle ; from each of whom he met with a like recep- 
tion ; for they had all been forbidden to show him any 
attention. Then he pricked on again to Madame, and to 
Damp Abbot ; and in a few minutes after, they had all 
gotten to his lodgings. 

Then the Lord de Saintre took Madame's arm, and con- 
ducted her into her chamber, her and her women ; and 
then he led Damp Abbot into another. And when they 
were in their several chambers, readying themselves, he 
told his maitre-d'hotel, that as soon as he saw them all at 
table, he was, that instant, to have all the horses saddled, 
and all his people booted, and ready so to start at a 
moment's notice. And when the dishes were laid ; and, 
to be brief, Madame and Damp Abbot had washed their 
hands, then he placed Damp Abbot, as Prelate, at the head 
of the table ; and Madame, who could never be prevailed 
upon to be far from him, next. Then, the others he put 
at the end. But, for all they could say, or do, he would 
never consent to be seated ; but, with his napkin on his 

R 



242 The History and pleasant Ghranicle 



arm, kept going about, helping, first one^ then another ; 
now to this dish, now to that ; with plenty of good wine 
between. 

Why need I dwell on it any more ? Damp Abbot was so 
taken with the condescension and forgivingness of the Lord 
de Saintre, that it would be impossible for any one to be 
more. And presently, when all their tubs began to be 
well filled, and their tripes well lined and larded; the 
Lord de Saintre, as if carelessly, asked Damp Abbot, 
" Had he ever had on armour?" 

'' Never in my life !" said Damp Abbot. 
" Hey, God," said the Lord de Saintre, " but it would 
become you, too ! what say you, Madame, would it not ?" 
''Damp Abbot would look well in anything;" said 
Madame ; " and for that matter, though some people might 
think it a good joke, I confess I can see nothing so very 
ridiculous about it." 

''Madame," said the Lord de Saintre, "who is there 
joking here? I repeat again what I said before : I have 
rarely seen the man who, in my opinion, armed, would 
appear to more advantage than would Damp Abbot." 

And, with this, he called to Peronnet, of his bed- 
chamber, desiring him " to do as he had told him." 
Then Peronnet brought in two boards, and laid them on 
tressels, at the foot of the room ; and then he put on one 
of them the larger and more gaudy suit ; without, how- 
ever, either axe or dagger. 

And when Damp Abbot saw this beautiful and polished 
harness, and heard it so admired, he began to be delighted in 
his heart ; for, surely, thought he, the Lord de Saintre, out of 
his good-nature, is going to give it to me ; and it was for no 
other purpose that he invited me. So he made up his 
mind, within himself, that if asked to put it on, he would 
do it at once, without making any sort of difficulty about it. 
And then to show him how much he was taken with it, 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 243 

and how deeply he felt his kindness, he began loudly to 
express his admiration. 

Then said the Lord de Saintre to him, trivially, " Since 
it seems to take your fancy, if by any chance it fits 
you, I am sure you are very welcome to it." 

" Earnest?" said Damp Abbot ; 'Hhen, for the love of 
Madame, I will neither eat nor drink till I have let you 
see me in it !" 

Then they all began to cry out, " Away with the 
tables ; we have eat twice too much already !" 

Then Damp Abbot, now in his glory, stripped himself 
to his doublet. 

Then the Lord de Saintre, a mallet in his one hand, with 
the rivets in the other, coming to him, and helping him on 
with the various pieces ; having put the helmet on his 
head, made Damp Abbot all sound and tight. Next he 
handed him a pair of gauntlets. And when Damp Abbot 
found himself thus all armed, he began to turn himself, 
first this way, then that ; then he would stick his hands 
upon his hips, all the while inquiring of Madame and her 
women, " What think you now of your monk, in his new 
role of Knight ? Is he not worth looking at, eh ?" 

" Monk," said Madame, " such men are rarely seen." 

" Hey, God," said then Damp Abbot, " if I now had 
but an axe in my hand, and any one had a mind to settle 
an account, or pick a quarrel with me !" Then, as a good 
jest, he said to Madame, " Troth, Madame, this here sur- 
plice is a wee bit heavier than the one in which Damp 
Abbot usually oflSciates of a Sunday. However, since I 
have won it, I will keep it." But as he was saying this, 
the Lord de Saintre, interrupting him, said to him, " Stay, 
my friend, not so fast ; you have not won it yet : in a 
minute or two, however, you shall." Then he had the 
other harness brought in, and instantly began putting it on. 
And when Madame had taken in more fully what the Lord 



244 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

de Saintre had just said, and saw liim hurrying himself 
into the other armour, she began to be uneasy as to what 
was like to come of it ; so she said to him, " My Lord 
de Saintre, what is it you are about ?" 

" Madame," said he, as soon as he was ready, " you will 
see presently." 

" Will see !" cried Madame ; " Sir Coward, and are you 
then going to attack a priest ?" 

Without so much as answering her, the Lord de Saintre, 
who was now fully armed, turning to his people, said, 
^'Look well to the door, and see that neither man nor 
woman enters in or passes out." Then he ordered 
Madame, and the other Ladies, and the monks present to 
withdraw, all of them, to the foot of the room, telling 
them, '' that the man or the woman of the lot of them that 
budged from thence, but the tenth part of a,n inch, he 
would cleave them from their jaws to their hips." 

Then might you have heard them curse the hour they 
had ever set their foot in that hall. Then coming to 
Madame, he said to her, "Madame, of your own accord, 
and without any manner of difficulty, you condescended to 
be judge in the affair, the other day, between Damp Abbot 
and myself; so, in return, I have now to beg and entreat 
of you, as humbly as I can, that you will deign again to 
be as much of another sort of a tussel, and one in which I 
happen to be somewhat more of an adept. And I have to 
hope, Madame, that you will be on my side, and second 
my proposal to Damp Abbot." 

" What proposal ?" said Madame. " Any insult offered 
to him, I shall take as offered to myself. He is under my 
protection." 

Then the Lord de Saintre turned to Damp Abbot, and 
said to him, " Damp Abbot, at Madame's request, and 
yours, I wrestled with you two times, and each time was 
thrown, as more than one aching bone this moment re- 



of little Jehan de Saintre., 245 

minds me ; nor, for anything I could entreat or urge, 
would one or other of you listen to reason. There was 
nothing for it, but I must go through with it. So now I 
beg and require of you, and for the sake of the Lady 
whom you have so faithfully loved, that you and I may 
try a fall at the sort of combat which- 1 have been taught 
to wage." 

"Ha, my Lord de Saintre," said Damp Abbot, "I 
never could do anything in armour." 

"Possible," said the Lord de Saintre: "however, you 
can do at least as I did, you can try : you shall go through 
with it, or through that window, at your choice." 

Then said Madame, now trembling before the fearful 
sternness of the Lord de Saintre, " Lord de Saintre, we 
will and command you, under the penalty of incurring 
our highest indignation, this moment to disarm ; as also 
Damp Abbot. And if you do not, we will publish you 
everywhere for a coward and vindictive, and we will take 
very effective measures besides to see you requited for 
this day's liberties." 

And when the Lord de Saintre saw himself thus vilified 
and menaced, and all out of her partiality and regard for 
Damp Abbot, turning and looking upon her, he cried aloud 
before them all, " false and disloyal traitress, as you are ; 
and this to me : I who have so long and faithfully loved 
and served you ; ay, as never woman yet was loved or 
served of man ! and now for this whoreson monk I am cast 
off; yourself debased, defiled, dishonoured and disgraced! 
And in order that you may carry in your recollection, and 
to your dying day, what it is to trifle with and to rouse the 
anger of the Lord de Saintre, I will make of you both 
examples, and you first, such as shall be well remem- 
bered, and to all time, of all such apostate dogs and bit — s." 
With that, raising one hand, he seized her by the hair of 
her head, and with the other was about to smite her on 



246 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

the face ; but suddenly he curbed himself, recalling to his 
mind all the many kindnesses, on a time, he had received 
from her ; and that, besides, it was not to be defended. 
Then releasing her from his grasp, he let her fall upon the 
form ; now crying, and well nigh dead with agony, and 
shame, and fright. Then he called to his people to bring 
in the two axes and the two daggers which he had had 
prepared. And when they were brought, he ordered 
them to hand them to Damp Abbot to make his choice. 
Then coming towards him, he said to him, " Damp Abbot, 
Damp Abbot, bethink you now of all the injuries you 
that day heaped in my presence, on Knights and Squires ; 
Knights and Squires whose days and nights are spent in 
arms, and all whose thoughts are virtue and are honour ; 
or now the hour of vengeance is at hand !" With that 
he closed his vizor ; fiercely bidding his people to do the 
like with Damp Abbot's. And then he went up to him ; 
and when Damp Abbot saw that there was no possible 
escape for him ; but that, will he, nill he, he was in for 
it; now furious and desperate, he raised his axe, and 
rushing on him, brought it down with such a force, that, 
had it lighted on Saintre, infallibly it had knocked him 
down, or killed him out of hand, for he was by much the 
stronger, as well as the heavier and bigger of the two. 
And this would have been what would have pleased 
Madame well. But, by the grace of God, and thanks to 
all the experience he had had in every kind of fray, he 
manaored to evade it. And a moment after, thrustinor his 
axe under a plait in Damp Abbot's armour, he carried him 
before him right up to the bench whereon Madame was 
lying. Then he tumbled him over it. Damp Abbot falling 
with such a crash, that sure they all thought the whole 
place was coming in about their ears. Then when Damp 
Abbot saw himself down, he began to cry, '' Mercy, mercy, 
Madame ! Ah, my Lord de Saintre, for God's sake, mercy !" 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 247 

Now the Lord de Saintre, mad with all the provocation 
he had received ; and all the infamies and insults you 
have heard were heaped upon him, had determined, in his 
own mind, to make an end, for good and all, of Damp Abbot. 
And to this purpose he had raised his arm, when suddenly 
remembering the ever-blessed words of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, where he says in Deuteronomy, in the Old Testa- 
ment, and the sixth book of the Bible : — 

Quicumque fuderit sanguinem humanum ; fundetiir sanguis illius. 

And, again, where it is said in the Passion : — 

Xon edificabis michi domum, quoniam vir sangumum es. 

As also, again, where he says by the mouth of David : — 

Yiri sanguinmn et doli non dimidiabunt dies suos ; 

As, again, by the lips of David: — 

Yirum sanguinum, et dolosum abhominabitur Dominiis ; 

As also, where, in the same place, he says: — 

Si occideris Deus peccatores : Yiri sanguinum declinate a me ; 

and, with them, so many other touching entreaties, remon- 
strances, supplications, instances ; and which, by his own 
example, he had illustrated, the Lord de Saintre relented, 
and resolved to spare him. However, as a just vengeance, 
and, as it were in obedience to the divine injunction, 
which, by reason of Damp Abbot's manifest and crying 
sins, had permitted him to have the better ; throwing his 
axe from him, and taking his knife in his hand, and open- 
ing Damp Abbot's vizor, he said to him, ''Damp Abbot, 
Damp Abbot, allow you now, be God a just judge, or be 
he not ; when, not all your arrogance, nor all youi' might, 
nor all your insolence, nor all your menaces, have been 
able to save you from this day's disgrace ; ay, and before 
the face of her, too, in whom was all your confidence ; and 



248 The History and pleasant Chronicle 

to curry wliose smiles you liave so basely lied, and reviled 
Knights and Squires and their order. xA.nd for this your 
lying tongue is now about to pay its forfeit." With that 
he split his tongue in two ; and having driven first his 
dagger home through either cheek, he then left him, ere 
he went, inquiring of him, however, '' Damp Abbot, have 
you not now well and honourably won your harness ?" 
Then he had it taken off him ; and when they both im- 
armed, and he saw Madame with her hair all about her, 
and her clothes all disordered, lying on the floor, he said 
to her, '' Adieu, Madame, of women falsest !" And as he 
was saying this, he looked, and spied about her waist a belt 
of satin, blue, and edged round with gold. And when he 
saw it, he ripped it from her with his knife, saying to her, 
" How, Madame ; and have you then the assurance to show 
yourself in such a colour ? Blue is the emblem of faith- 
fulness. Ill beseems it such as you ; you shall no more 
of it." Then rolling it up, he put it in his pocket. This 
done, he advanced to the Ladies and Gentlewomen, with 
the monks and attendants, who were by this all huddled 
together in the farthest corner, shivering and shaking like 
a lot of sheep ; piping, and half dead with fright ; and 
said to them, " You have been Avitness to everything that 
has been said and done, in all this unhappy matter ; and 
into which, to my infinite regret, I have been forced. 
And for all the annoyance and, I fear, fright I have caused 
you, I do entreat I may be pardoned. And now God be 
with you all." Then they opened the door for him, and 
he went down stairs, presently saying to the host, 
" Should Damp care to keep the larger harness, he is to 
have it. But the smaller, and the two axes and daggers, 
you will return to Jacques, and tell him to let me see him 
speedily. Good host, have you been satisfied ?" And as 
he said this he got upon his horse, and setting spurs to him, 
called, as he vanished, to his host, " Adieu, mine own host !" 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 249 

And now I will say no more of him, as lie went straight 
to the Court ; but will tell you of Madame and of Damp 
Abbot, and of all their people, who, you need hardly be 
told, were not a little disturbed when they came to under- 
stand more distinctly the nature of all that happened to 
Madame and to Damp Abbot. 



CHAPTEE LXXXIII. 

Of the state in which Madame, Damp Abbot, and all their people 
were left. 

The Author. 

AND when Madame had had her hair and things put to 
rights, and they had all cried themselves sick, and 
Damp Abbot had been disarmed, they then sent for a 
surgeon. Then they all began to cry afresh, and roar, and 
blubber, and curse the day they had ever set their foot 
in good host's house. Meanwhile Damp Abbot, who 
could not now speak, had his clothes taken off, and was 
put to bed; so that, needs was, Madame had to leave 
her friend. Then she broke out into such a paroxysm of 
lamentations, and tears and sighs, that, had all her family 
and friends been dead, it could not have been greater. 
But all the comfort she met with from her women, was, 
the one, " Ha, Madame, we thought as much would come 
of it as soon as we saw him arrive, and heard Damp 
Abbot speak of Knights and Gentlemen the way he did;" 
and the other, " Ay, and to see him treated, and kicked, 
and knocked about as he was T' 

" Whatever was done," said Madame, " take my word 
for it, it will not be forgotten. As soon as Damp Abbot 
is up again, he will have his revenge ; as, besides, that he 
should have dared to treat me the way he did : and to 
take away my belt, scoundrel and murderer that he is !" 

And now I will forbare to speak of Madame, or of 



250 The History and pleasant Chrmicle 

Damp Abbot's recovery, or of how, for two months after, 
they managed to be good company to one another, and to 
enjoy themselves even more than ever they had done ; 
the close of which, however, was somewhat bitter. 



CHAPTER LXXXIY. 

How Madame returned to the Court. 

The Author. 

AND whilst Madame and Damp Abbot were thus 
enjoying themselves ; the King and nay Lords, his 
brothers, no less, could not help wondering what it was 
could be keeping Fair Cousin so long away ; so that at last 
they spoke to the Queen. The Queen, who had a secret 
presentiment that all was not right, to save Madame's 
honour, said, '•' She knew nothing about what it was could 
be detaining her." However, on their pressing her to 
write, desiring her at once to return, she told them, 
" that she had already written to her, and sent to her two 
parties ; and that she might come exactly when she had a 
mind ; for, for her part, she was not going to write 
again." 

Then the King and my Lords, who clearly saw by the 
Queen's manner, that she was, in some way or other, 
annoyed, wrote letters themselves, and sent them by one 
of their own chaplains. Then, on seeing them, was 
Madame mortally wounded, to find she would have to 
leave her holy father. And so she appointed a day on 
which, without fail, she would be back in town. Then 
the good chaplain took his leave of her, and she of him ; 
he returning to the Court. 

The Author. 
Ha, false traitor. Love I cursed and insatiate as Hell, 
which never crieth. Enough ! will you never be wearied 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 251 

of your triumphs, your slaughters ; to vaunt you of your 
sick of head, your sore of heart ! God and nature have 
heaped on you such a power, that you are for ever 
taking and harrying in your toils, hearts of Popes, hearts 
of Emperors ; hearts of Kings, of Queens ; of Dukes ; of 
Bishops, of Archbishops ; of Patriarchs ; of Marquisses, of 
Marchionesses ; of Princes, of Princesses ; hearts of 
Abbots, of Abbesses ; of Counts, of Countesses ; wights of 
every mortal state, temporal as spiritual! Ah, many is 
the wretch, as many a tale attests, an history tells, whom 
first you have lured on, and then have spurned from you ! 
Ha, how many of them have you driven to madness, 
despair, to vengeance, and to crime; aye, even to the 
perdition of their souls, had not God had mercy on them, 
and made them to be vindicated in the eyes of men ! But 
to return to my story, which is as follows, I T\dll say no 
more about you, you rascal ! 

The Author. 

And when Madame saw that there was nothing for it, 
but she must return, her distress and agony were greater 
than I can find any words to describe. However, as 
Damp Abbot faithfully undertook to pay her a visit 
quietly, from time to time, disguised ; on the strength of 
this little comfort they were able, at last, to tear them- 
selves asunder ; and, had it not been for the parting, and 
the dinner, the rest of her visit would, on the whole, 
have been pleasant enough. 



252 TTie History and pleasant Chronicle 



CHAPTER LXXXY. 

How Madame came to the Court, and of the good reception she 
met with. 

The Author. 

THEN Madame, all pensive and out of heart, came to 
the Court, accompanied by Lords, Counts, Barons, 
Knights, Squires, in numbers, who had gone before to 
meet her. And when she was come, she made her 
reverence to the King, who received her civilly enough. 
Then on going to the Queen, the Queen said to her, 
a little drily, "Your stay was somewhat long: it seems 
you liked your native air." 

Then she went to my Lord Dukes, who received her 
as did the King ; that is, civilly. Then they said to her, 
laughing, " It is us you must thank, fair Cousin, that we 
have the pleasure of seeing you back." 

Then all the other Lords, Ladies, Gentlewomen, Knights, 
Squires, advanced to pay her their respects and congratulate 
her. And, from this time, a month slipped away. And 
at last it came, one lovely night, as the King and Queen 
were sauntering after supper, in a fair meadow, with all 
their Lords and Ladies round about them, that the Lord 
de Saintre said to the Queen and the Ladies, "Now sit 
you all down here, and I will rehearse to you a true story, 
and a most marvellous history, which, lately, and most 
curiously, came to my ears. In fact, it comes from beyond 
the seas." 

" That we will," said the Queen ; " 'fore God, let us 
hear it. Madame, here !" 

Then she called to her Madame, Fair Cousin. Then 
she said to the other Ladies, " Now, Ladies all, sit you 
round, and let us hear this wonderful tale, which the 
Lord de Saintre is going to give us." 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 253 

Then the Queen sat down, and made Madame sit next 
to her ; then the other Ladies and Gentlewomen, in a ring ; 
the Knights and Squires among them. Then, laughing, 
she said, "My Lord de Saintre, grand master of the 
novellists, commence your tale." 



CHAPTEE LXXXVL 

How the Lord de Saintre, without, however, naming any one, gave 
them the histoiy of Madame, Damp Abbot, and himself ; and how 
he gave Madame back her belt : present the Queen, and many 
other Ladies and Gentlewomen. 

The Author. 

THEN the Lord de Saintre began his tale, with all 
the art and grace of which he was capable. And 
he said, ''Madame, there lately came into my hands the 
account of a truly marvellous and authenticated history, 
and which, but a little ago, fell out in Germany. It is of 
a very noble and powerful dame, who, of her own good 
pleasure, having elected, as her choice, a very graceful 
little lad, so heaped upon him wealth, distinction, affection, 
love, honour, discipline ; that, with time, she caused him 
to be accounted one of the most accomplished Knights of 
Christendom. And so faithfully and ardently did they 
love one another, that, as my story goes, never were 
loves more loyal, more secret, or more true. But, as says 
Boethius, of Fortune, the traitress — 

' TJie pride of fickle Fortune spareth none ; 
But, like the floods of swift Euripus home, 
Oft casteth mighty princes from their throne, 
And oft the abject captive doth adorne. 
She cares not for the ivretch^s tear^s and moan ; 
And the sad groans, which she liath caused, doth scorn. 
Thus doth she play, to make her power more known ; 
Showing great wonders, when raan^s fickle state 
One hour hapless doth see, and fortunate.^ 



254 The History and pleasant Chrcmicle 

" So was it, Madame, with this unhappy wight, now so 
established in the graces of his Lady, that sure never man 
was loved of woman more. And, as fortune would have it, 
to prove as well to her how much he loved her, as for the 
enhancement of his name, on a time he came to France in 
quest of glory and of arms ; which arms he found, and from 
which he returned with honour. And now you must know, 
that while thus absent on this foreign field, it fortuned 
to this Lady to make the acquaintance of a certain lickerish, 
powerful, well-built monk, Damp Abbot, of a fair and rich 
abbey ; and quickly came to such an understanding, the 
Lady and the monk, that he who so passionately loved her, 
and had loved her, was far away, had done and suffered so 
much for her, was as clean forgotten as though he had 
never been." " Then," said the Queen, interrupting him, 
" she showed a very vlUanous disposition to forSake, for 
the like of a monk, any such man." 

^' Madame," said the Lord de Saintre, ''but, neverthe- 
less, so it was. It is so written in my history, and so 
it must be true. However, listen, Madame, to the con- 
tinuation, and how it all fell out." 

" Go on, and let us have it all," said the Queen. 
Then, taking up his tale, he went on and told them 
how this faithful servant found the Lady and the Abbot 
together in the fields, hawking ; and how the Abbot had 
asked the Lady, " If she would wish the gentleman to be 
retained to dinner," and of the answer she made ; and of 
how the lover staid to see the farce out, remaining without 
any sort of difficulty, and of how the Abbot and the Lady 
made themselves merry, at the expense of chivalry, of 
Knights and Squires ; of how the lover was drawn into 
the wrestling-match, and pf how the Lady sat as umpire ; 
and of how they undressed and wrestled ; and of the fine 
summersaults the Abbot threw ; looking on the Lady ; 
and of all the pleasantry, the mocks and the raillery that 



of little Jehan de Saintre. 255 

followed the match, the embassy from the convent ; and, 
to be brief, how the Lady and the Abbot come to dine at 
the hotel in the town ; how they both got to be armed, 
and of the fight ; also of the way the Lady carried herself 
toward her former lover, reviling him and threatening him, 
and all for the sake of her new ; how he put out his hand 
and caught her by the tuft of her hair, pretending as 
though he would strike her ; what her former servant said 
to her ; how he took the belt from off her, telling her 
'' that it was not for the like of her to be tricking herself 
in such a colour, for blue was the emblem of faithfulness 
and of constancy ;" short, the whole story. And when he 
had got to the end of it all, then was the Lady, whom 
they all thought to be in Germany, loudly blamed, and 
cried '' shame on !" of all the company present, and the 
hero of the battles which had been so gallantly gone through 
with, as loudly praised. And the more they talked and 
chatted of this most famous story, the more it seemed to 
tickle their fancies, and the more it made them laugh, with 
the exception only of poor ]\Iadame, who sat, without a 
word to say, trembling and frightened half out of her wits. 

Then the Lord de Saintre said to the Queen, and to all 
the other Ladies round, " Madame and my Ladies, our his- 
toriographer has bid me ask, what is to be thought of this 
Lady : did she well do, or did she not ? Madame, of you, 
I first inquire.'' 

Now, when Madame, the Queen, had heard tell of the 
loves of a Lady and an Abbot, she had had her own 
suspicions, that possibly it might be question of Fair 
Cousin : but inasmuch as she had never heard any ink- 
ling of those of her and of Saintre, she could not be 
exactly certain with herself. So to see how Madame was 
likely to bear it, she put it to her, to be the first to give 
them her mind. But to this she replied, *' Indeed, 
Madame, you must pardon me, for the fact of it is, I was 



256 Ttie History and pleasant Chronicle 

thinking of very different matters, and hardly heard the 
half he said. If you please, let the rest first offer their 
opinions, and by then I will know more about it, and be 
able to give you mine." 

Then the Queen said, " Since, I suppose, as being the 
Queen, I must deliver myself first, my opinion is this : — 
that the Lady was of the wrong sort, false and disloyal ; 
so we will say no more about it." 

Then said the Lord de Saintre, '' Madame de Eetel, and 
what may be your opinion?" 

" I think," said she, " as the Queen thinks ; and I think, 
besides, that she should be turned out of all decent society, 
that is, supposing her still to be in it." 

" And you, Madame de Vendosme," said Saintre, '^ and 
what may you say ?" 

" I say," said she, ''that she should be tied upon an 
ass, with her face to the tail, and then led about the town, 
with the rabble at her heels." 

" And you, Madame de la Perche," said Saintre, " and 
what is your verdict?" 

" I think," said she, " pretty much as the Queen thinks, 
and the two Ladies do who have spoken before me. And I 
am further of opinion, that she should be stripped naked, 
from her head to her hips, her head shaved, and when fat 
and sugar had been well rubbed into her, turned up for 
the entertainment of the town and the benefit of the 
midges and the flies. It were not one wliit too bad for 
her, or the like of her." 

Then, as soon as they had all delivered themselves, he 
drew from his sleeve the belt of blue and gold ; and falling 
on his knees before Madame, said, looking on the Queen 
and all the company, — " Madame, forgive me that I have 
so long deprived you of it." And thus saying, he laid 
it gently in her lap. And when the Queen and all her 
said company had fully taken in that it was Madame, and 



of little Jehan de Saintre, 257 

all this marvellous history; if they were astonished, 
and if they stared at Madame, I need hardly tell you ; 
nor need I, if she looked overwhelmed or hung her head. 
And from that hv ir began her fall, and forfeited she for 
ever all her honour, joy, and peace of mind. 

And now I am come to the end of my tale, praying and 
beseeching of all Ladies and Grentlewomen, of citizens' 
wives, or wives of whatsoever degree it may be, that they 
have, as a warning, before their eyes, the pattern of this so 
noble and so idle Lady, who, by her riotousness lost 
herself; and that they will heedfully remember and carry 
in their mind the old proverb, '^ never ivas there fire so 
covered, but of it came smoked That is to say, that never 
was there good deed, or ill deed done, however secret, wary, 
covered, or obscure, but at the length it was brought 
to light. For so has ordered it, the great Author and 
disposer of all things : the good and the just, to bring to 
honour; the wicked and the unjust to punish for their 
sins ; whether in their souls in the world to come, or in 
their bodies and their honours in the world that is; as 
he did tliis Lady, and many another, of whom history 
tells, for their disordered courses. And the further mean- 
ing of which is, that there ever will be in this world 
little, lying and malicious tongues, wliich will take their 
delight to scatter smoke without flame ; that is to say, to 
blow upon the reputations of honest and of worthy men 
and women, and without cause. But as to fire, that 
they cannot kindle, but where the spark appears ; and by 
which, as was this Lady, they are cast, become lost to 
themselves and to society ; spurned and tortured to their 
faces, ridiculed and reviled behind their backs. 
The Author. 

And here I will make an end of the history of this most 
famous Knight, who, besides being engaged in all the 
passages you have heard, bore a part in many another 



258 lAttle Jehan de Saintre. 

engagement, as well by sea as by land. And more par- 
ticularly, he was one of sixteen Knights and Squires who 
sought at Cairo, in the presence of the Soldan, twenty-two 
Christian renegades, and discomfited them in defence of 
the faith of Jesus Christ; and he travelled far and into 
more lands than 1 would have time to tell. And when at 
last the day was come, that God was pleased to take him 
to himself — ^by the hand of that death which spareth none ; 
I say, the day was come in which his eyes were closed in 
endless night, he was esteemed, of all, the most valiant 
Knight of all the realm of France. And it was in the town 
of the Saint Esperit, upon the banks of the Ehone, that he 
rendered up his mortal spirit, having first received in the 
profoundest devotion the holy sacraments ; and performed 
every office and duty to be attended of a good Christian 
in that so solemn an hour. And as they were digging 
the sepulture in which he was to be laid, one turned up a 
little slab, on which was graved, — 

In this spot will one day lie the nonpareil of France and Chivalry ; 
of all that have been, are, or are to be 1 

But this many take to be saying a little too much, and that it 
can only mean, the most valiant, of his time, in Christen- 
dom. However this be, as a tribute to his memory, I 
myself have been on a pilgrimage to his resting-place ; 
and there have looked, with no ordinary emotion, on all 
that time has spared to us of this once famous Lord and 
Knight. And there I saw his monument on which was 
graven as under, in the Latin tongue : — 

(15) Hie jacet Johannes DE SAINTKP], milles senestalus Andega- 
vensis, et Cenamanensis, Camerariusque domini Ducis Andega- 
vensis, qui obiit anno Domini milessimo CCCC. LVIII. ; Die XXV. 
Octobris. Cujus anima requiescat in pace. Amen. 




259 
NOTES. 



^1) Tlie expressions, To ride upon the high horse ; To carry it with 
a high hand, owe their origin to the habit which the young pages 
had, of riding, or leading the war-horses ofj their masters, to save 
them till such time as they might want them. 

(2) It appears, about this time, to have been a general practice (at 
least among the higher orders) to retire to bed for a few hours, after 
dinner ; which was usually at from about ten to twelve of the clock. 

C3) It is but fair the reader should be informed, that all this part, 
and, indeed, all that regards heraldry, costume, or armour, has been 
awfully scamped in this translation. They are matters of which I 
know literally nothing. The stockings of the time were, I fancy, 
nothing else thsm close-fitting hosen hreeches; in make, hke the tights 
still worn by our dancers, tumblers, &:c. 

^*^ There is, apparently, something omitted, about this place. 
Saintre's object in visiting the old lady was, probably, to deposit the 
money in her hands till such time as he niight want it. 

(5) I am unaware of either how or when the Peacock came to be 
canonized ; for so, I suppose, he was. A duke of Burgundy is some- 
where to be found, vowing (the peacock, dressed, on the table before 
him) to God, the blessed Virgin, my Lord St, Michael, the Ladies, 
and the Peacock. 

(^6) Montj'oie, St, Denis I was the war-ciy of the French in times 
of feudal France. The origin of the word is disputed and uncertain. 
According to Pasqiiier, one tradition is — that the last pagan King of 
France, on some imaginary interposition, (as the Christians told him), 
of the true God in his favour, was heard to cry, Jesu Christ, mon 
joie 1 Jesus Christ, my joy ! or, Jesu Christ, mon Jove I Jesus 
Christ, my Jove ! from that moment, declaring himself a Christian, 
The former supposition is the more likely of the two ; though the 
latter is not improbable. 

(^) There is something uncommonly L^ish in the lady's fancying 
that any access of devotion, on her part, after the event, could be of 
any service to poor Saintre. 

^^) The Pole was under an obligation to wear two rings of gold ; 
one round his left arm, above the elbow ; and the other round his 
ankle ; each attached to the other by a long chain of gold ; for the space 
of five years ; if, within that time, he did not meet with any Knight, 
or Squire, of name and renown, without reproach, to deliver him. 
Such vows, I may add, were by no means unusual in feudal times. 

^9) I cannot exactly make out, whether it was Saintre, himself, 
that the Lady dedicated ; or only a figure of him ; or, again, the 



d/ i 



260 Note%. 

worth of his war-horse, armour, &c. ; nor does the sequel throw 
sufficient light on the matter to clear it up. 

<^io) I conclude that this prodigious host must comprise all the 
Christians from whatever country they assembled. It is not, how- 
ever, clear that they were not simply the German contingent. 

(11) ^\^Q jpennon, carried by Squires, was a long streamer, pointed 
at the end. It became a banner when the pique, or tail, was cut off ; 
leaving it a square, or parallelogram. The Knights only bore banners. 

(^i^) I cannot, for the life of me, make out what it was that Saintre 
and his companions were to wear on their shoulders ; whether it was 
a mask, a vail, or vizor. However, it matters little. 

^13) As it may, perhaps, occur to the reader, that it is a little 
curious to find a gentleman and a lady, both in bed, calling for their 
night clothes ; it may be as well to state, that, in the middle ages, 
the night shirt and the shift were presumed to be as sacred and in- 
violable depositories of a gentleman's or a lady's chastity, modesty, 
or virtue, as doublet, breeches, stockings, or stomacher. In fact- 
there is considerable reason to believe, that it was 'nqt so much 
the cut as the time of day that constituted, among our ancestors, 
the difference between a night shirt and a day one. Or, possibly, the 
misapprehension, on this head, may have arisen, simply from the 
difficulty of expressing or conveying an equivalent. For instance, 
when we would say, that a man put on Ms night shirt ; they would 
rather have said, he he^^t on the one he had. The custom was, as 
well with the single as the married, to take the shirt on them into 
bed. Among the married, however, it was not etiquette for the lady 
to pass hers over the side, till such time as the gentleman had shown 
her the example. 

A king of France, wishing to be divorced from his wife, and 
swearing, before a court of justice, " that the lady was as much, that 
day, a virgin, as on the one she came to be queen," urged, among other 
proofs of the same, that they had never been, without their shirts, 
(n^i a nue,) in bed together 1 

•(1^) Damp is a corruption of Dominus ; and is the same with the 
Spanish Don, It seems to be of a value between that of Sir and Lord. 

(15) What an admirable subject for a painter this wrestling-match 
would make. It caps all over the Tournam^ent of Tottenham, 

(16) Some hunting pleasantry is here indulged in, which I am not 
enough of a sportsman to be able to interpret. It, however, seems to 
be equivalent to the proverb, '* Speak of the devil, and he will appear,'^'' 

(1^) The translation of this inscription is, *' Here lies Sir Jehan de 
Saintre, Knight, Seneschal of Anjou, and of Maine ; Chamberlain to 
the high and mighty Lord, the Duke of Anjou. He died in the year 
of our Lord, 1458 ; the 25th of October, and may his soul repose in 
peace. Amen." 

THE END. 



